Aia ho'i!
by KomodoQueen
Summary: Danny had no doubt that his partner was a magnet for trouble; it followed the man wherever he went. He also knew that he was usually the one who ended up on a gurney. He didn't realise quite how much his partner had rubbed off on him until he, quite literally, ran straight into some very painful trouble of his own ... Rated T for some course language.
1. Chapter 1

****Disclaimer:** **I own nothing. Not even the virtual paper it's written on. No copyright infringement intended.

Posted with beta help from _TheDogo_ - an amazing woman I'm lucky enough to call a friend ... this is for her and any errors which remain are entirely my own (I'm a fiddler ... can't leave stuff well alone ...)

**A/N:** There is nothing as deliciously satisfying as good, hard whump… on paper (I'm a wuss in R/L!).

If you came hoping for plot, might I suggest visiting the stories of those who can write one (TheDogo; Irene Claire; Wenwalke; CinderH; JazzieG; montez; Traw; Fifilla to name but a few).

This? This is simply fluff with a heavy layer of whump - mwahahahaha

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><p>*** H5-0 ***<p>

The team had wrapped up their latest case just after lunch, with all paperwork completed and filed in record time. The Commander suggested they call it a day and head out for the weekend. The cousins were anxious to get away early as they were expected at another cousins' engagement party (Danny often wondered exactly how many cousins one family could have) and some old family friends were flying in from the mainland to join in the celebrations. With no particular plans for themselves, Steve had suggested a few beers and a steak at his place; a suggestion Danny was beginning to regret agreeing to as the white-hot flash of pain threatened to rip him from consciousness …

*** H5-0 ***

Scrubbing his hand across his unshaven face and through his unkempt hair, Steve McGarrett sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose as he attempted to squeeze more life into tired eyes he pushed back his chair from the table and stretched his back as he rose slowly to his feet.

"This is ridiculous," he said. "We've been at this for over two hours and I'm still no closer to spotting this bastard than I was when we started!"

"Me either," his partner huffed back at him, forehead creased in frustration. "Maybe we should take a break?"

"What? Absolutely not!" the SEAL exclaimed, slapping his open hand on the table top. "This elusive bastard is mine and I'm gonna find him if it takes me all friggin' day". With a determined growl, the Navy SEAL plopped back into his seat and continued to scan for the suspect.

"I'm gonna get more coffee then. You want one?" asked the New Jersey native as he stood from the table, working the stiffness from his back and stretching as he did so. Sitting still in the hard chair had done nothing for his already aching body, the bruises from his latest McGarrett-induced injury making their presence felt once again.

He could have sworn he'd made it an entire month without injury, but as the cousins had so correctly pointed out this morning, it had been only 27 days. Even using February as his baseline he had fallen short once again. One day he'd manage an injury-free month. One day. In the meanwhile he'd have to settle for whatever he could get and 27 days was a pretty long time to have spent in McGarrett's orbit with nary an injury to be seen.

Mindful of his aching knee and cradling his injured arm, his fingers unconsciously found the fresh white bandage and rubbed again at where the tape gripped his bruised flesh. Silently he wished he had taken the offer of the couch or the bed in Steve's spare room. He would have, but he had seen the tension rolling off his partner in waves and knew there was no way in hell the man could rest. The only way to keep him out of trouble was to stay with him and keep him focused on something less likely to get either of them killed.

"Well?" he enquired, bending to make eye-contact with the seated man.

"Well what?" McGarrett snapped, eyes never meeting his 2IC's gaze and clearly distracted by his hunt for the elusive suspect.

"Do you _ever_ listen to a word I say Steven? I mean I know you got your bell rung the other day, but as I recall the Doc said there was nothing wrong with your ears …"

"Unfortunately not as I can still hear your incessant ranting," McGarrett barked, cutting him off mid-sentence. "You wanna get to the point, _Danno_?" eyes finally meeting his partners glare.

"Oh you did not just go there. You. Did. Not. Go. There," Danny chuffed, running his good hand through his hair and gripping the back of his neck as he tried to settle his already frazzled nerves.

"Where Danny? Huh? Where can I go? I can't go _anywhere_ with this … this '_thing' _on can I, which is why I'm stuck here with you … and you're giving me a headache!" McGarrett retorted, gesturing to make his point in much the same way as his partner usually did – a point that was not lost on the stressed blonde.

The Detective's mouth opened and he was about to launch into a full-blown Williams rant when he saw the pained expression cross his partners face. It was only fleeting, but it was definitely there. So he bit his tongue, took as deep a breath as he could and in the calmest voice he could manage repeated his question. "Coffee, Steven," open palm held out in askance. "Do you want another one or not?"

You could have cut the tension with a knife as McGarrett ground his teeth in a mix of pain and frustration, eyes finally meeting his partners gaze. "No ... thanks," he responded curtly before resuming his search.

*** H5-0 ***

_They were leaving the store when he saw them, the small boy squealing with delight as he bashed the ever-loving crap out of the stuffed dog hanging from the pram toy bar. Danny smiled as he watched the scene before him, the child's older sister skipping happily alongside their mother as they made their way toward the store, football tucked securely under her arm. She wore faded jeans and a too-big football jersey, hair only semi-tamed into a ponytail. The dirt on her clothes and grass stains on her pants, coupled with the enormous grin on her face, told of the fun she'd been having. _

_Danny was reminded of Grace at that age. Never one for sitting at home and playing with dolls, she had preferred the outdoors, playing sports and charging around in the dirt like some sort of muck-magnet. He remembered the baseball lessons and the father-daughter time spent playing catch and learning how to use a glove; batting practice at the local field and how her utter delight at her very first hit had rendered her completely transfixed as he had screamed at her to "run, baby, run!"_

_In his reverie he saw it almost too late. _

_The slight stumble in her step as she caught her shoe on the uneven pavement, her hands extending to steady herself thrusting forward the ball which bounced once on the kerb before deflecting into the street. He __was running instantly, his heart in his mouth as fear for the child forced him immediately __into action, Longboards and groceries discarded in an instant and crashing to the sidewalk in his wake. She didn't look before stepping off the kerb after the ball, not yet old enough to fully comprehend the danger. _

_Her mother spun towards __her, the bloodcurdling scream drowning out his partner's cry of his name as he darted toward the child, fully aware of the SUV hurtling toward them from __down the street.  
><em>

*** H5-0 ***

Returning to the table with his coffee, Danny set the bottle of water in front of his partner. Fishing a small bottle from his pocket, he shook out two of the little pills and set them alongside the water.

"Take your pain pills, Steven."

"I'm _fine_, Danny."

"Of course you are, Super SEAL. Just take the pills as Doc ordered," the fatigued detective said, wishing that, for once, his stubborn BAMF of a partner would admit defeat and cut himself some slack.

"I HATE taking meds and you _know _that," he whined, wearing his best 'kicked puppy' face.

"Humour me, ok?" Danny said in the voice usually reserved for a tearful Grace, gently squeezing the belligerent SEAL on the shoulder. "You need to heal and you can't do that without rest, which you can't do if you're in pain."

"I told you, I'm fine."

Rolling his eyes, Danny mentally counted to ten. "Steven, just take the damned pills already ... and you can lose your 'aneurism face' too. You're like a petulant child."

"I don't have a _face_, Danny!"

"Yes. You do!"

"Well _you've_ got a tone."

"Oh dear God, give me strength," Danny mumbled, good hand again running through his hair before settling on his hip. "The only 'tone' I have is one of frustration because my stubborn, bull-headed Neanderthal animal of a partner refuses to acknowledge when he is in pain and needs to look after himself because, contrary to popular belief, he is actually a human being!" His hand now wildly gesticulating to further drive his point home, he continued, "Now _you're_ giving _me_ a headache and the rest of me aches enough already, Steven … something to do with being thrown down a goddamn embankment by my over-exuberant partner less than 48 hours ago. So will you _please_ just TAKE THE DAMNED PILLS?"

Danny set his jaw and stared at his partner. His outburst had flushed his cheeks and left him breathing hard against his own fractured and bruised ribs. His body language was leaving no doubt about who was going to win this battle. Wincing as he drew in a deep breath, he jostled his arm and recently dislocated shoulder against the arm rest as he reached out to steady himself.

Steve noted the pallor of his friend's complexion, the dark circles beneath his eyes, the taut facial expression and carefully guarded posture. Danny was almost panting now as he shifted his weight, obviously almost completely spent from the exertion of his rant. Resting his good arm on the table he looked expectantly at his partner.

Reluctantly, Steve dry-swallowed the two small pills and then cracked open the water, downing almost half the bottle to quench the thirst he hadn't realised he had. The pain had been chasing the edges of his conscious thought for a while, not that he'd willingly have admitted it before and _certainly_ not now.

"You look like you could use some too, Danny" he said softly, passing the small bottle back across the table to his partner. "And maybe you should sit down before you fall down, huh?"

"Yeah, I think that's the first sensible thing you've said today," replied Danny as he accepted the offered water and settled back into his seat.

"You good?" McGarrett stared intently at the man on the other side of the table, his guilt over his partner's injuries almost visible on his shoulders.

"M'fine."

"Hey – isn't that my line?" McGarrett offered with a lopsided grin, pained smile never quite reaching his eyes.

*** H5-0 ***

_Slipping his wallet back into his pocket, groceries tucked under his arm, he smirked. His partner was always chastising him for 'selective forgetfulness' when it came to his wallet. In the store he had clutched his chest, claiming chest pains and palpitations at the sight of it, before warning the cashier to watch for an impending moth attack. The young kid behind the counter seemed unsure whether to take Danny's claims seriously, asking the man if he wanted an ambulance. That, of course, had his partner chuckling gleefully as he declined the offer, explaining in full gesticulating glory to the poor kid his theory on McGarrett's wallet. _

_For his part, he had warned the boy to believe nothing his 'short-ass __haole' partner said – a comment that earned him a one-fingered salute and a punch in the arm. Excusing his partner's behaviour, McGarrett had then turned to his 2IC and handed him a bag of groceries. A warning that it was almost time for his 'medication' had Danny grabbing the Longboards and declaring he now had in his possession the only meds strong enough to cope with 'McGarrettitis'. _

_He was in the middle of educating his partner on the use of the 'itis' suffix when it happened. _

_The world seemed to slow down as he watched in horror, his partner charging after the small child directly into the path of the speeding car. He saw the child's mother spin as she released a bloodcurdling scream, her eyes wide in absolute terror. His yell of his partners name had barely left his lips before he was hot on his partners heels, his own bag of groceries discarded in an instant.  
><em>

*** H5-0 ***

"There is something seriously wrong with you, Steven."

"What?"

"First the dude in the green shirt is pickpocketing and now the woman has a gun." Danny stared in complete incredulity at his partner. "I mean really, Steven? A gun? She's a mother… with a baby!"

"It looks like a gun to me," McGarrett said and looking into his eyes, Danny knew that he honestly believed it could be.

"Yeah, well, coming from the guy who carries the advertised content of the latest edition of Guns & Ammo in his cargo pants I probably shouldn't be surprised that you see weaponry everywhere. This is not some shady little back alley in Afghanistan. It's a beach. The sun is shining in the sky – look, see?" he said, pointing. "People are out enjoying themselves. You know, ordinary people who don't feel the need to keep rocket launchers in the trunk or grenades in the glove compartment. She's a mother, not a bloody Taliban insurgent," Danny huffed, wincing as he sucked in a deep breath.

"Well what's that there then?" whined McGarrett, turning his computer screen toward his partner and pointing.

"Oh for … it's a baby's leg, Steven," he said, clicking to zoom in on the area, "not the business end of a frigging AK47!"

"Well it looked like it could have been," muttered Steve. Flipping the screen back around, he brought back the main image and dropped his gaze once again.

Danny watched as his partner shifted uncomfortably in his seat before resting his elbows on the table, propping his chin on his knuckles.

Since Danny had practically force-fed his partner some analgesia, they had continued their silent vigil of the images before them. Both men actively searching for their quarry. While Danny's enthusiasm for the task had waned in preference for a comfy seat and a game on the TV some time ago, he had remained at his partner's side none the less. Steven J McGarrett was like a dog with a bone. Single minded and stubborn to a fault, Danny knew he wouldn't give up until his 'mission' was complete, no matter how uncomfortable he became in his quest. It was that knowledge that renewed Danny's resolve and fuelled his desire to bring the hunt to a close - sooner rather than later for both their sakes. He had suggested they divide the search, each taking a part of the beach and shorefront. Steve's drive and competitive streak had initially seen him argue for claiming the whole scene as his own, but his own fatigue and his partner's persistence had eventually won out.

Danny had already scoured and discounted the area beyond the small café, the small pavement table settings host only to tourists deciding their plans as they pored over maps of the area. He had worked his way along the beachfront to the light post and was continuing up the crowded beach to the ocean without any success thus far. Finding no one of interest near to the outdoor gym or among the local dog walkers, despite the fact that they knew their man definitely owned a dog.

For his part, McGarrett had cleared the ocean itself, none of the bobbing heads or surfers being the right build or having any resemblance to the wanted man. He had thought he had seen him on the far right of the beach, beneath a blue umbrella that partially obscured his features. As it turned out, the man in question sported a tattoo they knew their suspect didn't have – a fact pointed out by his 2IC, much to his chagrin. He _had_ found several of the wanted man's friends – his 'fan club' – dressed in similar attire. They formed a strange 'copy-cat' gang of watchers and runners, dressing similarly to confuse those who hunted one of their number. He had been convinced that one of these individuals was hiding the suspect's dog, but had been unable to prove it as the screen never showed more than what could have been a tail.

*** H5-0 ***

_He almost had her when his shoe caught, causing him to stumble. Knowing he wouldn't be able to scoop the little girl up and make it out of the way of the looming SUV, Danny did the best he could. He grabbed her by her shirt and shoved her, hard, back toward the pavement; the force physically lifting her from her feet. His hands hit the asphalt as he crashed down on one knee, halting his fall as he tried desperately to get his feet back underneath him. He automatically inhaled in fright as he regained his feet on the run, bracing himself for the seemingly inevitable. Trying __desperately to twist away from the vehicle hurtling towards him, the squeal of the tires and the smell of the rubber on the road filled __his nose and ears. Relief flooded over him as the vehicle veered slightly and avoided his stumbling form, leaving him panting in the opposite carriageway. _

_The __unexpected __impact took him down hard, breaking three ribs instantly; the force of the hit popping his lung as though it were an inflated paper bag. As he was thrown sidewards, he felt himself connect with the small barrier and then there was nothing. Everything happened in slow motion. The eyes he had squeezed shut in anticipation of the impact opened wide as he twisted in the air above the embankment. He heard nothing but the rush of blood in his ears, the rest of the world eerily silent to him. _

_In what could only have been seconds, yet seemed like forever, his thoughts travelled to only one place_ _… __Grace. His beautiful, clever, wondrous daughter. His everything. The child for whom he would give his last breath_ _… __but it wasn't supposed to end like this … Grace… He snapped back to reality as the ground came up to meet him, hands automatically outstretched to brace against impact. Eyes wide in horror, he watched helpless as the uneven bank loomed before him, a meagre covering of grass no cushion for his fall. His slow-motion flight over as quickly as it had begun. His lungs already screaming from the hit, he had yet to take a breath and yet the very last of the air he possessed was expelled upon landing. The force of hitting the grassy bank travelled up his outstretched arm, dislocating the head of his humerus and separating the acromio-clavicular joint before snapping his clavicle in half. The white-hot rod of pain was the last thing he remembered as he flipped and tumbled down to the bottom of the bank, his arm flailing uselessly behind the motion as darkness finally claimed him._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I still own nothing.

**A/N:** So your kind reviews (and begging) have resulted in another chapter ... just remember I love you all [dons flack jacket, ducks and runs for cover in anticipation, cattle-prod at the ready ...]

Still owe thanks to _TheDogo_ for the beta work ... and encouragement, patience, unwavering support ... any errors which remain are entirely my own (or the result of a British heritage).

This chapter is for the one drowning in errant Lions and the poorly one hydrating on cocktails ... you know who you are, ladies ;o)

Thank you for all your kind reviews - feel free to keep them coming and let me know how I'm going ... this being my first foray into multi-chapterville and all ;o)

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><p>Danny rubbed at his chest with his good hand, the ache becoming increasingly persistent. He knew he should be sitting more upright so as to 'properly ventilate' his lungs, as per his doctors' orders. But the throbbing from his bruised and battered torso was so much worse when he sat up in the hard chair that he continued to slouch.<p>

The caffeine had worn off about an hour ago, as had the good meds. He couldn't take any more of the good ones yet for fear of falling into welcome sleep – something he couldn't do until his stubborn ass of a partner agreed to give it up too. The foam sling holding his injured arm to his body pulled on his neck and irritated him no end, but all of that paled in comparison to the pain that had set in when he defied doctors' orders and removed said sling. Much to his displeasure, he had discovered that the recently disrupted ligaments that held his shoulder joint together objected strongly to the weight and movement of his arm, sans sling. His automatic need for gesticulatory emphasis, coupled with his current inability to even lift his arm properly, put paid to his plan for a sling-free day. On the plus side, having the arm held close to his body did serve to splint his fractured ribs somewhat, but they also hurt like a bitch. He could feel the slight grate of the bones with every deep breath he pulled in – an action he had been warned was entirely necessary. He had been made to sit through a long lecture on breathing exercises by the respiratory physiotherapist before he was discharged with a ridiculous-looking gadget that he figured would be more at home in a toy box. He was _supposed _to be taking strong pain meds so that he would be able to breathe deep enough through the tube to 'float' the stupid little blue balls inside. He was _supposed_ to be doing that at least once every hour to help re-inflate his partially collapsed lung and prevent fluid build-up. He was _supposed_ to be resting. Yet here he was, staring at a computer screen searching for a man who had eluded them for hours. Hoping that his partner would have more luck than he was having soon so that he could quit thinking, take some more of the 'good stuff' and get some decent rest. Preferably in a comfy chair. Or a bed. Or pretty much anywhere other than where he was right now.

*** H5-0 ***

_His breath caught in his throat as he watched his partner stumble. The girl had landed hard on the pavement, but she was out of danger… unlike his partner. The truck was close. Too close. The smoke from overheated brakes and the screech of the tires as the petrified driver stood on the pedal with all that she had told Steve nothing except that he had to get his partner out of harm__'__s way … and fast. _

_Danny hadn__'__t seen the truck, his focus being the speeding SUV headed for the little girl. Steve yelled again as he watched Danny stop on the opposite side of the road, back turned towards him and oblivious to the new threat. Steve pushed hard, running directly at Danny without regard for his own safety. His partner – his best friend – was in danger and he needed to fix it. He needed to save him. For Grace. The beautiful little girl he had come to love as his niece. The one person who could melt his heart and get him to do anything – even if that anything involved nail polish and sparkles. He needed to save his brother. The man who had taught him so much. About police work, about life … about himself. The man who was ever present. Who always had his back, even when he unloaded his crazy-assed shit on suspects and blew stuff up. When he charged in guns blazing without back-up. The truth was, he did have back-up. He had the best back-up he could possibly have and despite Danny__'__s endless rants about 'proper procedure' and his 'disregard for personal safety__'__, they both knew that was far from the truth. Even those plans which seemed reckless to an outside eye were carefully considered and evaluated. He would never knowingly risk his partner – or any of his team. His own safety, however, always came second. Which was why he didn't hesitate to throw himself at Danny, his _brother_. Consequences be damned._

*** H5-0 ***

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the incessant throbbing in his leg had ramped up a notch or two in the past half hour, but he was determined to finish what he started. Leaning forward he reached for the cushion on the chair and attempted to reposition his leg. The itch was back. He desperately wanted to scratch it, but it was buried deep beneath the bandages and padding and no amount of wriggling his puffy toes was helping. Staring down at the discoloured digits, he sighed. He knew he should be resting. He should be doing an awful lot of nothing right about now, but what he _should_ be doing and what his brain would _let_ him do were two entirely different things. He simply couldn't switch off and to top it all, he couldn't even find a suspect who was possibly one of _the_ most identifiable people he'd ever been shown a likeness of.

He'd been injured before – hell, he'd worn a cast before – but the immobility that came with this situation was driving him nuts. Not only was the half cast horrendously heavy, it was unbearably hot. The swelling had been so bad that the orthopaedic surgeon had instructed the nurses to place him in a 'back slab' made of actual plaster of Paris rather than a lightweight thermoplastic cast.

The fact that the fractured bones were considered stable enough to heal without surgical intervention was great. What wasn't nearly so great was the fact that he had to remain in this POP cast for a week and it wasn't strong enough to walk on. He wasn't supposed to even allow the thing to bear the weight of his leg as it could crack and allow the bones to move. He couldn't get it wet and the padding it necessitated beneath the plaster offered zero ventilation. He couldn't walk and he even struggled with the crutches due to the abrasions on his palms. He couldn't swim. Hell, he couldn't even shower without assistance in covering the whole thing in plastic bags and surgical tape. He couldn't do much of anything, and it was pissing him off. By the time he had made it into the shower yesterday, the struggle to stay upright without putting _any_ weight on the thing had him almost taking a header into the tiles eight times in the three minutes the water was on. He hadn't even bothered this morning. Why the hell people still used Gypsona bandages was beyond him – he had never known a more irritating, impractical, ridiculous item. It sucked. A lot. He'd have preferred to go through hell week all over again. Twice.

Rubbing idly at his abraded palms (which also itched like a witch), he looked across at his partner. The man was tired, the dark circles under his eyes and drawn features telling of too much coffee and too little sleep. Danny's breathing had become shallower and if it was even possible, he looked paler than he had earlier. He had begun to fidget in his chair and Steve could visibly see the pain etched on the man's face. He'd been so caught up in his own brooding need to occupy himself that he had completely overlooked his partner. His long-suffering partner who always seemed to come off worse in spite of the care he took to ensure his safety. The partner who had become more like a brother to him than simply a friend. The man who willingly risked himself to save a little kid and now sat here at the table working on something to satisfy_ his_ partner's needs, when he should be resting and taking care of his own. Danny looked up from his screen as his Steve's contemplative stare bore into him. As he stared back all Steve saw was pain and his breath hitched in his throat. He was officially an asshole. A selfish, brooding asshole. His brother was hurting and it was all entirely his fault.

*** H5-0 ***

_He drove himself into his partner as hard and as fast as he could. He had to get him away from the truck, even if that meant putting himself in his place. Danny _had _to be ok. For Grace. He could not – _would _not – allow his partner to be flattened by a truck when he was being the hero he always was. He was _not _telling his adopted niece that her Danno wasn__'__t coming home. No way. Not today._

_Steve was sure he felt Danny__'__s ribs breaking as he tackled him, bodily forcing him off his feet and well away from the truck. He would later be told that this was probably the point at which Danny__'__s lung had burst, causing air to leak into his chest. He would carry the guilt of inflicting those injuries regardless of his partner__'__s thanks for saving him from a worse fate. It was just who he was. He carried the burden of his guilt always and for everyone for whom he felt responsible, however misplaced that guilt may be. With a final shove, he propelled Danny out of the path of the truck. Twisting his own body in a vain attempt at following suit, he caught sight of the truck__'__s cab. _

_Mouth agape in terror as she stood for all she was worth on the brake pedal, the young driver met the gaze of the second man to jump in front of her vehicle in a matter of seconds. Knuckles white on the faux leather binding, she watched as the shorter man was flung sideways down the embankment. As he twisted in the air in front of the hood, his saviour met her gaze, nodding almost imperceptibly in acceptance of his fate. Sucking in a fearful breath, she pulled hard on the wheel, attempting to forge a new path away from the inevitable. It was too late. She winced on his behalf and shrank back in her seat as metal made contact with flesh. "No __…" __her murmured response. _

_Pushed further back into her seat and away from the wheel by the explosive force in front of her, her hand struck the window as her truck lurched to a halt. Unable to see past the deployed airbag, she heard the thud of the man__'__s body as it made contact with the hood; heard the crack of the window and the scraping of clothing on paintwork as he travelled up and over the roof. Glancing in the side mirror as she batted the white material away and wincing at the burns on her forearms, she saw the prone form of the man on the asphalt behind her. Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared, transfixed, at his motionless body, blood already pooling beneath his head. "Oh God …" she whispered, reaching for the door handle. "Oh God, no__ …" __She felt the bile rise in her throat and as she pushed the door open and staggered from the truck, lost her breakfast into the gutter._

*** H5-0 ***

"I'm sorry, Danny," Steve said quietly. His 2IC looked at him through tired eyes, the toll of his recent injuries written plainly on his face.

"What are you sorry for now, huh?" he sighed.

"You always said if you get someone shot, you apologise. I figure breaking you myself would also necessitate such a sentiment …"

"Look at you!" Danny chuffed. "All grown up and willing to apologise without even a little prompting. I must be rubbing off on you at last – it's only taken four years! Maybe there is hope for you after all … and for the record, Steven, you do not need to apologise when you save someone's life."

The SEAL sighed and dropped his gaze, his expression full of guilt and self-loathing.

"What's with the face, Steven? Huh? You want me to say thank you again? You need me to tell you again how none of this is your fault? Remind you that it was me that ran out into traffic and that you, my friend, saved my ass … even if you did break me in the process?" Danny winced as the pain that had been nagging at him for a while flared once again, shifting his position in an attempt to find relief.

"I didn't mean about that …"

"Oh, so you're not sorry you broke me? I see," the detective smiled and gave a light chuckle, the latter triggering a cough.

"No Danny … I mean yes, I am sorry I 'broke' you, but no, that's not what I was apologising for," McGarrett retorted, his frustration evident in his tone.

"So much for having … you we …" another cough saw the pain flare up into his damaged shoulder, "well trained".

Danny grimaced and sat more upright as he attempted to draw in a pain-free breath. The pain in his shoulder had changed. It was not simply the pull of damaged ligaments and bruised flesh. This pain ran deeper, was more visceral and spread up into his shoulder from beneath his left chest. He felt the need to cough again, but not from a tickle in his throat or to clear something. This was different somehow. It stemmed from somewhere else. Maybe he had been sat in one position too long. Maybe it was just his body telling him he should have been doing as he was told by his physio and sitting more upright. He didn't know. What he did know was that _this_ – whatever _this _was – was not comfortable. At all. He felt like he couldn't breathe deep enough, even though the pain his ribs were protesting with proved he was moving his chest wall plenty.

Steve saw the change in his partner. Watched as the cough visibly stole his breath. He watched as his partner closed his eyes against his obvious pain and tried to settle his breathing.

"What I was trying to apologise for was this, Danny. You've been trying to keep me amused and you're in pain and I should have seen it and told you to stop earlier …"

"Not letting y … you have all … the glory … of finding him by … by yourself." Danny struggled to get the words out as his breath caught in his chest. Involuntarily giving small and ineffective coughs as he spoke.

"That's it, Danny. We're done. No more hunting suspects today." Steve closed the screens on both their laptops as he watched his friend, his concern for him growing by the second.

Danny slipped from his chair and stood up, hoping stretching himself out would allow him to breathe easier. He grabbed the table to steady himself as a wave of dizziness washed over him, a pained grunt escaping his lips as the sudden movement jarred his injured body.

Steve watched as his partner visibly paled before him, saw him sway and steady himself from the obvious dizziness. Swinging his casted leg from the chair, Steve cursed loudly as the weight of the plaster drove his injured limb to the floor. His eyes locked on his partner as he pushed back his own chair and grabbed blindly for his crutches. As his fingers found the foam padding of the cross-bar, they slipped from his grasp, clattering loudly to the floor out of reach.

"Shit!" Steve used the table to support him as he half hopped, half hobbled around it towards his friend. Danny continued the persistent coughing, his breathing becoming faster and more ragged in between. "Danny? DANNY, what's wrong?"

"I do … don't know. Steve …" he pleaded. The look he gave his partner had Steve immediately grabbing for his phone. "Can't catch m' bre … breath." Eyes wide in fear, Danny's knuckles were white as he held on to the table edge as if it were the only thing keeping him in the realm of the living.

Fishing his phone from one of his many pockets with one hand, McGarrett continued his hop-hobble around the table. Swallowing down the pain from his own injuries, his only thought to reach his struggling partner who was beginning to sag against the opposite side of the table.

"I'm coming, brother. Take it easy. I'll get some backup," McGarrett reassured him as he fumbled for the speed dial.

Danny's colour change was alarming. Previously pale skin was now almost transparent, a blue tinge to his lips and a sheen of sweat coating his body. His breathing was way too fast but his chest was hardly moving. McGarrett watched in horror as his best friend sank to the floor, gasping for breath, neck and chin extended in an automatic response to increase airflow.

The pain up into his shoulder was excruciating and worsened with every small breath he took. He was almost panting as his vision began to grey at the edges, the dizziness threatening to rip him from consciousness. It felt as though he were a fish out of water, mouth gulping hungrily for oxygen, but finding only the sting of burning lungs. The blind panic that enveloped him only worsening his desperate need for air, Danny found he no longer had the strength to sit upright. Unable then to remember how he came to be laying on the floor, he listened to his partner stumble toward him. _"__I think that backup might arrive too late this time, partner," _he thought as he watched his best friend try desperately to reach him round the table. Struggling to keep his eyes open he could hear noise and was sure Steve was talking to him. The voice was distant, drowned out by the rush of blood from his too-fast heart in his ears. His thoughts once again drifted to Grace. Behind heavy lids he saw her beautiful face. Clung to the image as the darkness approached, threading its fingers through his consciousness as it sought to drag him under.

Steve could see the panic in his brother's eyes as he dropped from sight behind the table. In his haste to reach him, he let go of the table and began hopping toward his partner, catching the toes of his injured foot on the table leg as he dragged it behind him. "Fuck!" Instinctively drawing the limb toward him, he reached out too late. Standing down on his injured leg automatically to correct his balance, he heard the crack of the plaster. A guttural scream passed his lips as the displaced bones of the once stable fracture broke the skin. As his cell phone fell from his hand he crumbled bonelessly to the floor beside it.

"Hey Steve. We're almost back with you guys and we've got dinner – hope you guys are ok with Thai," Chin answered his phone as Kono drove back towards the McGarrett house. "Hey, brah … have you pocket dialled me again?" he said, receiving nothing but silence in response. Sharing a look with his cousin, he switched the phone to speaker. "Steve? You there?" A feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach as he tried again. "STEVE!"

Danny stared, glassy-eyed, at the unresponsive body of his partner laying on the floor. Resigned now to his fate, he watched a lake of crimson spread across the floor beneath his brother. As darkness chased his conscious thought, he thought he heard Chin's voice. "Ch … Chin … help … ttell Grace …" the words forced from his last pained breath before darkness claimed him completely.

Sharing another look with his cousin, Chin listened to the faint whispered voice of his friend as he begged for help. "We're coming Danny, hold on brah," he said as Kono switched on the lights and sirens and drove the car like she stole it, in the direction of Steve's place.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I still own nothing :o(

**A/N:** I'm really humbled by the lovely reviews and follows - thanks so much to each and every one of you. The support has fed the muse ... she's now quite rotund and spewing forth all sorts of crazy ... you have been warned!

Continued thanks to 'Miss Busy', a.k.a. _TheDogo_ for the beta work ... as usual, any errors which remain are entirely my own (or the result of a British heritage).

Oh, I should probably add that I'm not much into killing people off ... not completely, anyway ... [ducks once more and runs for the hills]

Enjoy! ... And if you should feel like letting me know your thoughts, they would (as always) be welcome ;o)

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><p>Pulling into the driveway of the McGarrett house, the cousins were out of the car almost before it had stopped moving. Stopping either side of the front door and drawing their weapons, they could hear the ambulance siren as it approached their position. With a slight nod, Chin indicated his readiness and the cousins burst through the door as one. Covering each other with weapons at the ready, neither knowing what they would find. Ever the professionals, they worked their way into the house, clearing the rooms as they went. Upon entering the dining room, the sight that met them was enough to haunt their dreams.<p>

First through the door, Kono gasped in horror at the sight of her boss' motionless legs beneath the table, the once white cast now stained red. Holstering her weapon as Chin gave the all clear, she darted to the opposite side of the table.

"Oh God, Danny!" Kono screamed as she caught sight of the Detective, once pale face now deepening shades of blue. Skidding to her knees on the floor, she tried in vain to rouse her 'other boss'. Rolling him onto his back, his flaccid arm flopped lifelessly to his side. She could tell instantly that he was not breathing, the usually vibrant man no longer present behind half-lidded blue eyes. "No, Danny! No, no no … you can't do this," she whispered to her fallen friend, pulling his bad arm from the sling and resting it by his side. As she glanced back at her cousin she saw the same fear in his eyes as she held in her own. Swallowing her nausea, she couldn't stop the tears which flowed freely down her face as she began CPR on the man who had become family.

Chin had dropped to his knees beside McGarrett whilst still holstering his weapon. His heart skipping a beat as he found Steve's present and strong beneath his fingers, he let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

Blood continued to run freely from Steve's broken nose as he lay on the floor and, glancing up at the blood-stained table, Chin reasoned that his friend had struck his face on his way down. Whether the fall was caused _by_ his now hideously deformed lower leg, or was the cause _of _it, he had no idea. A soft moan drew his attention back to the Commander.

"Steve its ok, we're here. We've got you," Chin uttered softly to the man, a grounding hand on his shoulder. As if drawn from his stupor by the touch, Steve's eyes blinked open, turning his head toward the older Lieutenant.

"Uurgh …" A cough spattered blood across the floor as Steve rolled his shoulders and attempted to sit.

"Woah there! Lay still, Steve," Chin instructed, guiding him back to the floor.

Catching his gaze as his mind cleared, the injured man lurched upward once more. "Danny! Chin he …"

"Kono's with him, Steve. Help is on the way," Chin held his shoulders and attempted to reassure the Commander whilst reigning in his own fear. It didn't work.

"Where is he, Chin? What's wrong?" Steve demanded, the panic in his voice clear. Taking a deep breath, Chin tried again to get the SEAL to stand down.

Pinching his still bleeding nose, Steve pushed to sit up, trying to see past his team-mate to where he knew Danny had fallen. The sight he was met with chilled him to the bone. There, not five feet from where he sat, was his best friend – his brother – lifeless and clinically dead. Kono's hard, fast compressions the only thing keeping him adhered to the realm of the living and even that link was tenuous at best. His head lolled, mouth open, rocking gently from side to side with each compression of his chest. His lips a deeper hue than the lifeless blue eyes blankly staring through half lids, disconnected from all that surrounded them. Kono moved to Danny's head, tilting his chin and covering his mouth with her own as she forced air into his lungs. Each breath a desperate plea to remain present. Returning to his still chest, Kono swatted at her tears before resuming her efforts. Danny's arms flapped uselessly at his sides, his watch slapping the floor in a staccato rhythm with every compression.

Chin could no longer maintain his Zen composure as he held his boss' shoulders in a futile attempt at keeping him still. He had seen plenty of men dead or dying in his career – he had known several of them – but somehow this was just so much worse. It was like the pain of losing Malia all over again.

Steve gasped, his hand rising to cover his mouth. "Auwe! Danno …" the pained whisper from the younger man before he sought to move closer to his fallen friend, dragging his semi-recumbent body across the floor.

"Steve, please …" Chin begged, watching the colour drain from his friend's face as the effort moved his injured limb.

The little blonde haole was family. They all were. Closer than some of his blood relatives. It wasn't only Steve - Danny was Chin's brother too. They were 'ohana. A band of four very different souls who had come together and were quite simply 'less' without one another.

"I have to … Chin he needs to know we're here, man," Steve's plea was broken by his own choked tears. "He needs to fight this. He _has_ to fight this. This isn't right. I can't lose him, Chin. Not like this …"

Chin's chest felt tight as Steve stared up at him, face streaked with blood and tears. The hard-as-nails man so vulnerable and childlike as he begged his best friend to live. Chin was struck by an emotional pain so deep within that it practically stole his breath from him. He fought to supress the tremor that threatened to undo him completely, unable to hold the tears that slid gently down his own cheeks. The raw emotion too great for his usual stoicism. "I know, brah. I know."

"Aaaugh!" An agonized cry escaped Steve's lips as his leg was jostled once more, the crepitus of the fractured bones audible above the rhythmic huff of escaping air from his partner's compressed chest. His vision greyed at the edges as he bit back the nausea. Knowing he could move no further, he allowed Chin to lower him to the floor. He could no longer contain and compartmentalize his pain in spite of his training. His own physical pain coupled with the emotional turmoil proving too heavy a burden to simply box-up and ignore. Mindful of his throbbing and broken nose, he rested his arm across his face and openly sobbed for his partner.

*** H5-0 ***

Hearing the slamming of doors that indicated EMS arrival, Chin rose to greet them.

"We'll need a second …" Chin was cut off mid-sentence.

"Already en route, Chin." At Chin's raised eyebrow, the medic continued, "What? A call to McGarrett's place gets an instant double ALS response – we know you guys too well! Lead the way, fella." The tall man clapped Chin on the shoulder as he strode purposefully toward the dining room. "Let's see now, what do we got …"

As the two medics entered the room, they immediately separated to each assess one of the downed men.

Approaching the Commander, Bryan Hayes reached out to feel the pulse in his wrist, finding it rapid but strong enough beneath his fingers. "How are you going, Steve? Man … you're a mess!" The seasoned paramedic had patched up and transported members of Five-0 several times since the creation of the task force. His easy-going nature and patience often tested by their belligerence and reluctance to accept any kind of help and – more often in Steve's case – accept the fact that they were only human. At 6'3" and almost as broad, he cut an imposing figure, but those that knew him understood his gentle nature. That wasn't to say he was soft – anyone who had ever tried to argue (and lost) would understand that despite his size, it was his knowledge and persistence that won out over physical force every time. The man had probably forgotten more than some of the younger medics had ever learned and it was this fact, coupled with his tenacity, which had garnered the respect of all who knew and worked with him. He often joked that he considered Five-0 his 'frequent flyers', although they were at least always genuine in their need. He just wished they didn't need him quite so much that they were on first-name terms.

"M'good Bryan - go help Danny … please help Danny …" McGarrett's eyes betrayed his words, his pain and torment clearly visible.

"You're far from what I'd call _good_, Steve …"

"Bryan, _please _… I'm hurt but not dying," McGarrett begged.

Reassuring himself that his patient had no apparent immediate threats to his life (his limb was another matter, but he wasn't bleeding out on the floor and it could wait for now), the red-haired medic conceded. "Fine, but Chin stays with you until the other bus arrives," he said, raising his gaze to meet the Lieutenant's, "and if he gets worried there will be NO argument, you hear me?" The affirmative nod from both men sending him to Danny's aid.

Easing himself down next to his crewmate, Bryan took in the scene before him. Alex had commenced ventilations with a bag-valve-mask and as Kono continued compressions, had worked around her to cut away clothing and attach the defibrillator.

"You're doing great, Kono. Can you keep it up for just a couple minutes longer?" Bryan asked, looking at the young woman before him. Jaw clenched in determination, the slight nod allowed him to focus on assisting his partner as she continued her rhythmic refrain.

"Ok stop for a rhythm check." The younger medic held out his hand and signalled for Kono to sit back from Danny as he stared at the monitor screen. Digging his fingers into the side of Danny's neck he felt for a pulse to accompany the regular waveform sweeping across the screen. "Dammit – he's in PEA," he sighed. "Can you continue compressions?" Kono did not have to be asked twice, replacing hands trembling with adrenaline over the centre of her fallen friend's chest.

The pair worked with quiet efficiency to place an endotracheal tube and secure intravenous access in Danny's external jugular. Kono's continued compressions caused a rhythmic wave to flutter across the defibrillator screen, but she was beginning to tire as the initial adrenaline dump faded. She was as fit as she had ever been, but CPR was physically exhausting. The surge of hormones released to stimulate a 'fight or flight' response could only mask pain and fatigue for so long. Eventually the body would give in. Kono could feel every bone in her slender hand as she crushed it between its opposite number and the sternum of her friend. She felt Danny's ribcage as it shifted beneath the pressure; heard and felt the popping of cartilage as she fought for his life with everything she had to give. Pouring herself into the task before her so thoroughly and completely that everything else in the room faded away. She watched as Danny's belly see-sawed in opposition to her ministrations; too-pale skin laying flaccid across his well-defined abdomen. She noted the small tuft of hair beneath his navel as it wavered with each movement; disappearing and then resurfacing from beneath his slacks like Limu in the surf.

Not wanting to distract the young woman from her efforts, Bryan turned his head to Chin as he pulled one side of his stethoscope from his ear, clearly unhappy with what he was hearing.

"These bruises were from the accident the other day, right? What injuries did he have, Chin?"

"Err … Dislocated left shoulder and broken collar bone, bruised ribs …"

"Just bruised? No fractures?" The medic enquired.

"Three, but they were stable … and he had a small tear in his lung from the impact."

_"__Not anymore," _Bryan mumbled as he rummaged in his kit.

"He's really tight, Bry. There's a crap-load of subcutaneous emphysema and I've got really poor output with compressions," Alex stated, looking worriedly at his supervisor while squeezing the ambu-bag now attached to the tube in Danny's trachea. The young medic was quietly competent and skilled despite his 'rookie' status, having only graduated from EMT school six months prior. He had graduated at the top of his class and was a quick study, but his relationship with his first mentor had gone sour quickly. Alex was the youngest in his class, his dishevelled mop of blonde-brown hair and slight stature making him look even younger. He was keen to learn and asked appropriate questions – which was what started the issue with his previous partner. Kaipo liked to feel superior, which was why he enjoyed mentorship. Unfortunately what he _didn't_ like was hard work. He also didn't like professional development or learning, which meant he was – medically speaking – stuck in the past. A dinosaur. When Alex asked questions, Kaipo was not just unwilling to answer him, he was unable. He didn't know the answers himself. Kaipo was as far from a sweetheart as anyone could get, despite his name and he resorted to personal vilification and bullying to deflect from his own inadequacies. After Kaipo had been placed on administrative leave due to a shoulder injury it had taken Bryan several weeks to get the rest of the medics to call Alex by his name, rather than 'mustard' – a nickname given by Kaipo in reference to his keen nature. Bryan had taken Alex firmly under his wing and under his expert guidance, the boy was blossoming into a talented clinician. He kept a level head even in extreme circumstances and was able to think critically about his patients' conditions. Qualities which Bryan was thankful for in this moment because things were about to get very real, very fast for the young medic.

Pulling two syringes from his kit, Bryan worked quickly to draw up some saline and attach a large bore catheter to each. Handing one to his partner, he ran his fingers over Danny's chest wall. The crackle of air beneath the skin akin to a layer of Rice Krispies beneath the surface.

"Chest wall is thick with air, Alex, so push in real hard or you'll not reach the cavity," Bryan instructed. "And remember, aim for the third rib and glide up and over – we don't want to cause more grief by hitting the vessels."

The young medic nodded, taking his syringe in his hand before mirroring his mentor to locate the space between Danny's ribs on the opposite side. Never having performed the procedure in the field, he spoke softly to himself as his hands found their mark.

_"__Clavicle … second rib … second intercostal space in the mid-clavicular line …" _Taking a deep breath and swallowing hard, Alex pushed the needle into Danny's chest, pulling back slightly on the plunger of the syringe as the needle advanced. Feeling a sudden 'give' as the plunger was released, Alex watched as air bubbled through the saline in the syringe, closely followed by fine wisps of blood. Letting out the breath he was holding, he smiled up at his mentor.

"I got air, Bry – I'm in!"

"Great job man, great job." Bryan mimicked his partner's actions, "Needle out and secure." Pulling the needle out of the catheter, which remained in Danny's chest, Alex placed it in the yellow sharps container.

Feeling for a pulse in Danny's neck, the young medic sighed with relief. "Output is better with compressions," he smiled, relief replaced with determination as he worked to secure the catheters in place. He knew the war was far from over, but he'd take whatever small victories he could get.

"We'll give him just a little longer before we reassess – you still ok, Kono?" Bryan asked.

Staring at her hands, Kono had been lost in thought as she continued to push on Danny's chest. She stared at her knuckles and watched as they whitened with each compression; stared down at her arms and wondered if everyone's elbows looked twisted with one hand atop the other; rocked herself back and forward, using her weight to power each thrust onto her friends chest; willing his heart to beat. She snapped back from her thoughts at the touch of Bryans hand on her shoulder. Blinking away the tears that continued to fall, she looked up, unaware of the question he had asked.

Meeting her gaze and knowing that she would not be able to continue for much longer, Bryan repeated himself as he prepared his equipment. "You still ok, Kono?" Her subtle nod answer enough.

"We got no seals, Bry! Crap!"

The young man's voice conveyed his alarm as he rummaged through his kit.

"Breathe, Alex." Bryan placed his hand on the young man's shoulder. They had been waiting on a stores delivery for three days and Murphy's Law dictated they'd always need what they didn't have. "What is it they say? Necessity is the mother of invention? We'll use what we have."

"Huh?"

"Cut a couple fingers off a glove, open the other end and stick them over the needle hub – it'll act like a flutter valve."

"It will too - you're a genius!" Alex exclaimed, grabbing a fresh glove from the pack and doing as asked.

"Just been around longer than you is all – what do you think we did before seals were invented?" Bryan smiled, picking up his scalpel and moving Danny's arm up above his head. "Keep that out of my way, eh?"

Chin's face creased with a slight smile as his boss alerted like an attentive hound at the medic's words. "Stand down, Steve … wrong type of SEAL," he said, flatly; hands once again encouraging the fretful Commander to lay still.

Taking a deep breath, Bryan made his first incision over Danny's rib just below his armpit. Retracting the blade of his safety scalpel, he used the large curved clamp to perform a blunt dissection and pass through the intercostal muscles into the pleural space. As he opened the clamp for the final time, a rush of air and spray of blood escaped through the crude opening. Inserting a gloved finger into the hole he had just created, Bryan felt for the lung tissue. Satisfied that what he felt was indeed lung, he removed his finger leaving a macabre trail of glistening red as blood seeped slowly past the exposed layers of subcutaneous fat.

"Ok Kono, stop and let's see if our boy has decided to fight." Bryan indicated for Kono to stop compressions and move over, scooting into her place to perform the same procedure on the other side of Danny's chest.

Alex's fingers dug into his patient's neck as his partner worked, desperately hoping to find a pulse to accompany the electrical rhythm that continued to flit across the monitor screen. His effort was rewarded by the feeble throb of blood pumped from a heart no longer constricted and starved by misplaced air.

"We got him!" The smile almost split his face in half as the young medic relayed his findings.

Kono sat back and surveyed the scene as it played out before her, feeling strangely distanced from her own reality. She had lost herself in her task so completely the physical touch had her crashing back to events almost too fast for her to handle. She felt like the whole world was spiralling out of control. She had just let go of something she had clung to with the very essence of her being; the rhythmic pounding the only thing keeping her grounded and somewhat sane. Had crushed it with a single word … 'stop' … and in response the silence was deafening. The room was spinning and she had to get out, to get some air, to … to BREATHE! Swallowing her sudden nausea she scrambled to her feet, legs of jelly barely listening to her brain's commands. Stumbling and Bambi-like she dashed through the door to the Lanai, the sound of her retching muted to those remaining by the snap of the door in the frame.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **No gift-wrapped characters in my mail ... still own nothing :'o(

**A/N:** I continue to be amazed and humbled by your gracious responses to this sorry little tale. Thank you all so very much - the muse was placed on a diet ... and she was NOT happy ...

In fear of sounding like a broken record, thanks must be shovelled once again all over _TheDogo_ for the support and beta work ... as usual, any errors which remain are entirely my own (or the result of a British heritage).

Enjoy! ... Reviews (as always) welcome ;o)

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><p>The trip to the hospital had been fast. Very fast. HPD had arranged an escort for the ambulance, working in tandem, leapfrogging each other to halt traffic at each junction so the vehicle didn't have to stop or even slow down. With the stick barely in park, the back doors to the truck had flown open and the stretcher holding the still form of Five-0's 2IC had been yanked unceremoniously from its anchorage. Chin scrambled from the vehicle as the medical staff swarmed like ants around honey; orders and findings barked out as they listened to Bryan's succinct handover on the run. Following the rapidly-moving throng as it burst through the ambulance bay doors, his passage was halted by a diminutive woman in blue scrubs. Stepping directly into his path, she reached up and placed her open palm on his chest.<p>

"You need to wait outside." The words spoken quietly, but the tone demanding acquiescence.

"Five-0," Chin barked, indicating the shield on his belt as he attempted to continue down the corridor. "I need to stay with him."

"Is he under arrest?"

"What? No! He's not under arrest …" Stopping to look down at the woman, he continued, "He's Five-0 and …"

"Then I'm sorry, but you're gonna have to wait outside."

"You don't understand …"

"I understand perfectly well, Mr. …?"

"Kelly. Detective Lieutenant Chin Ho Kelly."

"Well, Mr – _Detective _Kelly, I do understand that you want to be with your colleague, but the fact is right now that's not possible." Holding up a hand to silence him, the woman continued, "I promise you we will take good care of your friend – we'll treat him like 'ohana – but we need the room to work." Her words were spoken softly and Chin saw nothing but sincerity staring back at him from hazel-brown eyes. Her smile marked gentle lines on her face as she gently steered him in the direction of the waiting room. "Perhaps you could help him by giving us his details. I _promise_ you I will personally come and find you when we know more, ok?"

"I can do that," Chin sighed in resignation as he allowed her to lead him. "I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" he enquired, turning back to face her.

"Don't be," Chin looked quizzically at her. "Sorry – no need to be sorry … and my name is Kristy," she said with a smile, pointing to the ID badge clipped to the shoulder of her scrub top.

Nodding his thanks, Chin made his way toward the clerk. How had he missed that? He prided himself on his attention to detail and he had just completely missed a name-tag so large it may as well have been written in neon flashing lights, complete with blinking arrow above the woman's head. This whole episode was screwing with his head and he didn't like it. Not one bit. He had to pull himself together. He couldn't let this get to him. Had to maintain his composure … oh who was he kidding? One of his closest friends had just been brought back from the brink of death and was still waging a war against an enemy he knew only too well was powerful enough to take him once more at any given moment. What if he lost? How would Steve cope? Or Kono? How would _he_ cope? No. NO! Danny was strong. Danny would make it. He had to. He just had to.

Returning the completed forms to the clerk, Chin made his way to one of the hard plastic chairs to wait. That was what this was now – a waiting game. Waiting for Steve and Kono to arrive. Waiting for news. Waiting to see if Danny lived. Scrubbing his hand across his face, Chin took a deep breath, shaking his head to rid himself of the negativity that had found its way once more into his mind. Leaning forward and resting his forearms on his knees – eyes glued to the door – he settled in for the wait. The wait to hear how long Danny would need to recover.

*** H5-0 ***

_He watched as his cousin fled the room like she was on fire, legs barely carrying her. She had seemed dazed when Bryan had asked her to stop and as relief flooded the entire room, had disappeared at breakneck speed through the Lanai doors. He had remained at Steve__'__s side the entire time. A guardian; protecting his leader by shielding him from a sight which was nearly his own undoing; grounding the man lest he damage his own broken body further. _

_The arrival of the second pair of medics had offered welcome distraction. As they slipped into the room and began to assess his downed colleague, Chin had allowed himself to take in the scene playing out behind him. Danny had been 'down__' __for a good five minutes before Alex and Bryan had seemingly worked their magic, reattaching the man to the realm of the living. It didn__'__t happen often, but as he sat, Chin prayed. He prayed to any God who would listen; prayed to the spirits; prayed to the energy that coursed through everything, living or dead. He prayed for the life of his team-mate. Begged for his life and begged that the life be meaningful … and then he asked that if it were not to be, that his friend be taken quickly, without suffering or 'living__' __in a purely biological way. Danny wouldn__'__t be Danny if he couldn__'__t ever wake up and _that _was not something Chin wanted to even think about._

_Returning from his contemplation at the touch of his boss__' __hand on his arm, Chin took up the man__'__s hand in his own. Steve__'__s face was etched with lines of pain and worry and as their eyes met, the single word tore at Chin__'__s heart._

_"__Danny?"_

_"__He__'__s in good hands, Steve. Bryan__'__s got him and they__'__re moving to the hospital now."_

_"__Is he …"_

_"__He__'__s with us – barely … he__'__s fighting, Steve. If anyone can get through this, Danny can."_

_"__Go with him, Chin. Please."_

_Looking into the pleading eyes, Chin could do nothing but comply. Kono was yet to return from the Lanai and Danny was alone with the medics. A gentle squeeze of his boss__' __hand and he was moving to catch up with his friend._

*** H5-0 ***

Chin was half way across the room before the doors were completely open. Kono just stood there, big red-rimmed eyes glistening with unshed tears. Seeing her cousin, she began to walk slowly towards him, the stress radiating from her small frame almost palpable.

"Danny?"

"Still fighting, cuz … still fighting."

Kono fisted his shirt as she allowed her head to rest on his shoulder. The warmth of his body as he enveloped her with his arms did little to ease the chill that had settled deep within her bones.

"How's Steve?"

"He refused any pain relief, as usual," Kono said, the warmth of Chin's sigh like a breeze through her hair. "It was too much and he passed out about five minutes out … I was so scared, Chin," she said, lifting her gaze. "One minute he was looking at me and I could tell he was in pain … his leg – oh God, Chin – they had to remove the cast to splint it … there was so much blood … and the bones …" Kono's breath hitched and she slammed her eyes closed as she relived the moment, a shiver travelling through her like a shockwave. "He screamed, Chin. He actually screamed," she whispered, remembering the moment her boss had gripped her hand as he stiffened with his back arched off the bed; all colour leaving his too-pale face as his eyes rolled in his head and he lost the fight to darkness.

"Shhhh, Kono." Chin pulled her closer, as if he could squeeze away the tension and worry. Moving his hand to the nape of her neck, he slid his fingers up into her hair and cradled her into him, hiding his own errant tear as it slid silently into the soft dark strands. The gentle odour of coconut somehow soothing and supporting him where he stood.

"I … I thought … I just … all I could see was Danny and how he … and then Steve …" pushing free of her cousin's embrace, Kono darted sideways to the waste basket as she felt the bile rise once more in her throat. Her adrenaline dump well and truly over, she dissolved into the hard plastic chair alongside it as shaky legs refused to support her weight. As she leaned forward, forearms resting on her legs and head in her hands, she felt a warm hand on her back. Leaning into her cousin as he sank into the chair next to her, she took his free hand in her own.

"They're strong, Kono. They'll get through this. We'll get them through this. Together." Strong, calloused hands rubbed soothing circles on his cousin's back as Chin sat, unsure who he was trying to convince with his words.

*** H5-0 ***

He felt like he was floating. Bobbing about like a buoy in the ocean. Drifting with the current … but it was too warm. The ocean was never this warm … and instead of the sound of crashing waves, all he could hear was beeping. The ocean didn't beep. The ocean didn't smell of antiseptic either. He wrinkled his nose as the smell assaulted his senses. He hated that smell. That smell was only ever present if he was in a hospital, but he was in the ocean. The big, blue ocean. The too warm ocean that smelled of beeping and sounded like antiseptic … no … that wasn't right … it_ sounded _like beeping and_ smelled _of antiseptic. Yes … and it left him feeling warm and kinda fuzzy round the edges. He shouldn't be feeling fuzzy. He should be swimming or he'd drown … in the ocean that sounded like beeping and smelled like antiseptic … drowning in antiseptic … no, not in antiseptic … in the ocean … why was he in the ocean? And why did the ocean beep? If he could just open his eyes, he was sure he could figure it out. Yes. He'd get right on that … just as soon as the fuzzy would let him …

*** H5-0 ***

It had taken an hour for Kristy to seek him out with an update and by that time exhaustion had finally claimed his cousin. Wriggling out gently from underneath her and settling her back onto his chair, Chin stepped over to the compact nurse as she approached.

"Detective," she said, gesturing with her hand, "maybe we should sit …"

"Is he …?"

"No – that boy's a fighter," she said, a small smile creeping into the corners of her mouth. "He's still hanging in there … for now."

Chin let out the breath he was holding, the rigidity of his posture finally softening as he let the news sink in.

"Please," she said "let's sit for a minute." Guiding him back to the chairs, she continued, "You're exhausted and I can tell you just as easily seated and that way I don't have to worry about you falling down yourself!" Her warm smile finally extending across her face, Kristy succeeded in her request. Chin got the feeling the woman almost always got her way and his own lips thinned in a half smile as he complied.

"So your friend …"

"Danny."

"Yes," she began, dropping to an easy crouch in front of the now seated Chin. "Danny was critical when he arrived with us – and he still is – but he's a lot more stable now than when he first arrived. I understand from the paramedics that he sustained some injuries in an accident a few days ago. You were aware of those, correct?"

"Yes. He broke some ribs, his collar bone and dislocated his shoulder."

"Mhmmm … and he had what's known as a pneumothorax at that time, too. Do you know what that means?"

"He had air in his chest outside his lung."

"Exactly," she nodded. "A simple, small pneumothorax will usually dissipate on its own, given adequate pain relief and good respiratory effort. I understand the doctors were initially happy that it was resolving and after a while on some oxygen, he was discharged with pain killers and some advice from our respiratory team."

"Yes. He was staying with Steve and he was a bit sore, but seemed otherwise ok when we left to go get food …"

"Well for one reason or another, what started as a small collection of air in there turned into what we call a tension pneumothorax …" Chin sighed. He had been replaying it over and over in his head, but for the life of him couldn't pinpoint any warning signs from the time they had spent together that morning.

Sensing the man's torment, Kristy continued, "It may have been something as simple as a harsh cough that triggered it, but it seems one of those pesky fractured ribs moved and caused more trauma to his lung tissue and created a sort of one-way valve, if you will. That let air out of his lung, but not back in. As the air built up outside his lung, it put pressure on everything inside his chest, including his heart, so it was unable to beat properly … You gave him CPR?"

"No, that was Kono." Chin's mention of her name had the sleeping woman instantly back on high alert. Bolting upright so fast her world span, she anxiously looked to the newcomer in blue scrubs.

"You must be Kono," the nurse said, extending her hand. "I'm Kristy and I was just explaining to the Detective here …"

"Chin. Please, call me Chin."

Grasping Kono's proffered hand, Kristy continued, "Ok, I was explaining to Chin how Danny's lung had leaked some more and the air had compressed everything in his chest and essentially squashed his heart until it stopped. The paramedics cut some holes into his chest and relieved that pressure. It's a crude but effective measure that allowed his heart to start again properly. I understand you gave him CPR?"

Kono's whispered, "Yes," along with her pensive expression spoke volumes about the psychological trauma of having to perform such an act on her friend. Kristy could foresee some counselling sessions in the young woman's future – particularly if the outcome was less than favourable. And right now, the odds were pretty even either way. "Well done," she said, laying her free hand over the back of the young woman's slender wrist. "What you did to buy him time has undoubtedly given him the best possible chance. Without you and the paramedics, he would certainly already be dead."

Kono blinked several times as the tears threatened to fall once more. She was emotionally exhausted and was frustrated at her inability to keep her emotions in check. She accepted the woman's comfort with a subtle nod before allowing her hand to fall back to her lap, fingers unconsciously fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

"Is he … I mean will he …"

Recognising Kono's difficulty in even forming the words, Kristy answered the unfinished question as best she could. "He's strong and he's fighting – he obviously has a lot to live for," she smiled. "He is still listed as critical and right now he's up in surgery …"

"Surgery?" Chin's fingers traced his lips as he absorbed the information.

"The orthopods – sorry – orthopaedic surgeons," she corrected, "took him up to fix his ribs and his clavicle." Seeing Kono's slight frown, she clarified, "his collar bone. His bones shifted with all that CPR and the ends weren't aligned right so they're fixing them up with some screws and plates – kind of like a surgical Meccano set. He will be moved up to the ICU as soon as he's out of recovery, which should be within the next couple of hours. For the time being, no news is good news, but if he has any family ..."

"He has a daughter, Grace. She's on holiday in Australia with her mother," Chin provided, rubbing his forehead as he thought about how best to tell Rachael. This was not a conversation he wanted to have, but he knew the call had to be made and Kono was in no state to make it right now. "I'll call her."

"Good. Now I've taken the liberty of calling upstairs and they are expecting you in the waiting room with coffee and some sandwiches. I will not have you two collapsing in exhaustion – that's no good to anyone."

"Mahalo," Chin offered his hand in thanks, making a mental note to remember to send a more formal thank you to the little nurse later.

"Please, take care of yourselves … Danny will need you both if he makes it through this." Rising to stand before them, the petite woman nodded to each of them as she smiled knowingly "Good luck to you all. I'll keep you in my prayers," she said as she turned and disappeared back through the sliding doors.

The use of the word 'if', not 'when' communicated the severity of Danny's condition and Chin sighed as he plucked his phone from his pocket, steeling himself for the conversation to come.

*** H5-0 ***

He felt heavy. His bones like lead in his limbs. Stretching his hand out he could feel the crisp sheet and cellular blanket favoured by hospitals beneath his fingers. Hushed voices and the slow mechanical whirring of medical equipment broke the silence as the cotton-wool feeling of floatiness abated. He breathed deeply through his mouth, hearing his own sigh as the air left his lungs. Rolling his tongue around his teeth in an attempt at coaxing lips from parched gums, he swallowed dryly. If he didn't know better, he'd have sworn Gracie's bunny had set up home in his mouth, leaving fur and fluff where moisture was meant to be. Gracie. Danny's gorgeous daughter was his everything and he was hers. Danny. Oh God …

"Danny!" Eyes snapping open as he startled to full consciousness, Steve's half-shout brought Kono to his bedside in an instant. His automated attempt to sit saw the world abruptly tilt; his injured body too slow to keep up with the sudden change in position.

"Whoa Boss-man," Kono's hands gripped his shoulders as his stomach roiled in objection. "Take it easy," she said, pushing him back down into the bed.

Sagging back into the pillow as Kono thumbed the controls, raising the head of the bed, Steve focused on her face. She looked tired. Dark circles beneath her eyes stood in stark contrast to the too-pale skin of her face. Lank hair tugged back behind her ears had been separated into twirled strands by worried hands. Even her posture screamed fatigue and Steve sensed she could probably sleep where she stood, given half a chance.

"Danny?" he tried again; the words sounding strange as they resonated in his blocked and swollen nose.

"He's in the ICU," Kono said, her sombre tone worrisome to the man in the bed. "He's holding his own. Chin's with him and he'll call if there's any change." Kono crossed her arms over her chest, rubbing at them to dissipate the chill that remained deep in her bones. Reaching up to take her hand from where it had settled at her mouth, the young woman nervously nibbling on her thumb nail, Steve squeezed gently. He could almost see the tumultuous river of sadness as it flowed over his friend; could sense that she barely clung to a semblance of normalcy as she stood before him. Her effort to remain strong – for him – almost too much for both of them.

"He'll make it, Kono. He will." His gentle words of support and the physical touch of his hand finally allowed the dam to wash away and the tears returned unabated. Pulling her to him so that she perched on the bed, Steve wrapped his arm protectively round her. The pull of gravel-damaged skin from the accident a harsh reminder that he was far from okay himself. As Kono settled further into him, unable to contain her grief any longer, she sobbed; tears soaking the thin cotton of his clumsy hospital gown.

As he sensed her anguished sobs waning, Steve guided her upright. A gentle hand either side of her face, he brushed away remaining tears with his thumbs.

"It's okay, Kono," he said, swallowing hard and regulating his breathing in an attempt to quiet the heart that beat like that of a frightened animal; hammering away in his chest as he fought with his own angst.

"No Steve, it's entirely_ not_ okay!" Kono's voice raised in both pitch and volume as she continued, batting away his hands and rising from the bed to stand. "I had to _resuscitate_ him, Steve. That's as far from 'okay' as you could possibly get … and now he's laid up there with machines breathing for him and no one can tell us if he's even going to live … and if he does make it through this then when he wakes up he mightn't be Danny anymore because his brain might be damaged …"

Steve watched as Kono's hands flew up in emphasis before she wiped at the tears on her face with her sleeve. The familiarity of the ranting and gesticulation only serving to further signpost the absence of one Detective Danny Williams.

"Kono …" he tried, softly; his own eyes now moist as he checked his intractable emotions.

"… and you …" Kono jabbed a pointed finger in his direction. "_You _are an asshole. Do you have_ any _idea how scared I was when you passed out in the ambulance? Huh? I thought I was going to lose both of you and there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it, Steve … not a damned thing. Danny was dead and then you left me too and …"

"Danny's not dead, Kono," Steve's tone was firmer now and he pushed himself to sit up more from the bed "He's not dead!" he almost shouted, wincing as his efforts ramped his pain up further. The angry skin on his right arm and torso felt like someone had tried to slowly flay him alive with a toothpick and then used a rub of lemon juice and jalapenos to tenderise the flesh. In fact, the only thing that didn't seem to hurt was his leg – which was odd because the last time he'd been awake it had hurt like a son-of-a-bitch and that agony had sent him to oblivion.

Catching Kono's hand in his own, he gave a reassuring squeeze before repeating himself. "He's not dead, Kono. He's gonna make it. Danny's never given up on anything and he's not gonna start now. We have to believe that, okay?"

"Believing it doesn't make it true, Steve," Kono sniffed; the words broken by the hiccupped breath that followed.

"I know, sweetheart, but we have to have faith in him. He'll fight to come back to us." Lifting her chin with his cupped hand, Steve stared into the deep brown pools of sadness her eyes had become. "If not for us, then for Gracie."

Steve desperately wanted to know exactly what was going on with his partner; to digest every last morsel of information and formulate some sort of plan to 'fix' him. Right now though, the only thing he needed to 'fix' was the rookie. The usually squared-away woman was falling apart in front of him and he fought his own inner turmoil to become her rock; her grounding tether. Danno would need him soon, but Chin was by his side and Kono needed his support more than anything right now. Painful as it was to admit it, he wasn't in great shape himself and he needed to take care of the 'ohana in front of him first. Pulling her back to him, he enveloped her in his arms. He would figure out why the hell he couldn't feel his leg … later.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **I still own nothing ... not even the S4 boxed set ...

**A/N:** Continued thanks to all of you who have been kind enough to follow or leave a review - it means a lot to know this little piece of nonsensical drivel makes someone happy outside of my own head ;o)

Thanks _TheDogo_ for the super fast beta work ... any errors which remain are entirely my own (or the result of a British heritage).

Enjoy!

* * *

><p>Chin sat, his elbows resting on the arms of the chair, hands tented with finger tips resting against his lips. A statuesque sentinel awaiting change. It had been four hours since he had been permitted entry to the ICU. Four hours since his brief text to Kono, 'Still alive. In ICU. Let you know if anything changes'. Four hours watching the regular blip of the ECG on the screen. Four hours listening to the ventilator as it forced air into Danny's injured lungs; hearing the gentle bubble of the underwater drains as the free intrapleural air made its escape. Four long hours watching the nurses and intensivists fight to keep his friend alive.<p>

Danny lay, unmoving, in the crisp white sheets of the hospital bed. The turquoise-blue of the breathing tube holder accenting the subtle cyanosis that persisted at his lips. A myriad of pumps attached to the poles of the bed pushed medications and fluids into the ports of the central line protruding from the right side of his neck.

Chin could see the bruises that marred the man's chest and shoulder; the neat line of sutures that peeked out from beneath the gauze hinting to the recent surgical repair of bone. His left arm propped on a c-pillow, there was no need for a sling. Danny wasn't moving. Save for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, the man who always seemed to be in perpetual motion was disturbingly still. Still and cold.

Chin had followed the nurse from the waiting room, listening to her lecture about how seeing his friend may be upsetting and how he mightn't even look like the man he knew. Chin had been in enough hospital rooms to understand that the very sick and injured were often a far cry from the person one knew, but what he found as he entered the room stole his breath. He had stood, unmoving, in the doorway. The quietly gasped "Danny" the only indication that he himself was still alive as his heart skipped and breathing stilled at the sight. Danny looked … well, he looked dead. Save for the regular rise and fall of a chest commanded into motion by a machine, there was nothing about him that indicated life.

Determined to pull the man back from the brink by any means necessary, Chin had approached the bed. Taking Danny's hand in his own he had swallowed the unease that settled in the pit of his stomach as he felt the unnatural coolness of his friend's skin. His eyes traced the lines and tubes that snaked away from his body. The hard plastic measure attached to the urine collection bag told of those hidden by the simple sheet. The hand he held was splinted to prevent movement of the arterial line in his wrist; measuring his blood pressure and allowing the nurses to collect samples at regular intervals without having to 'stick' the man again.

Rubbing a calloused thumb over Danny's knuckles, Chin had willed him to come back. Commanding him over and over to fight and not give up; his whispered voice broken by the swallowing of his emotions until it finally cracked. Taking pity on him, the nursing staff had brought him a chair; sensing the weariness of his worry by his posture alone. The ICU 'rooms' were separated by curtains, not walls and there were no visitor chairs; the staff needing 360' access to their charges at all times. For him they had made an exception. An exception for which he was immensely grateful.

Chin had listened as they explained why Danny felt so cold. He heard them tell him about the cooled fluids and the special garments on his legs and the gel packs in his axillae; the 'targeted temperature management' that would be continued for at least a further 18 hours, keeping Danny's core temperature at 96.8 'F (36 'C). He listened as they explained the reduction of metabolic demands and the probable decrease in 'reperfusion injury' risk to Danny's already oxygen starved brain. About how he had been given muscle relaxants and sedatives to prevent him moving or shivering; about how it was actually a good thing that he needed them, but that these drugs could accumulate due to his slowed metabolism and mean he could take longer to wake up … if he woke up at all.

He heard them tell him they would begin rewarming him slowly after that time and would pull back the sedation to let him wake up … but Chin's mind was stuck on _if. _Try as he might, he couldn't move past the fact that this might be the last ever memory he had of the New Jersey native who had moved his entire life to be with _his_ little girl, only to have it hanging in the balance by his effort to save someone else's.

*** H5-0 ***

Kono peeled herself away from him and excused herself to freshen up. He'd watched as she straightened her shirt, noting the bloodstains that had dried to a rusty brown along the bottom. Danny hadn't been bleeding – as far as he could remember, at least – so he assumed the blood was his own. Scrubbing his hands over his face and through his hair, Steve braced himself. He looked down at the bed and the collection of neat, white blankets draped over some sort of frame; the whole thing hiding his legs from view. Shifting slightly in the bed, he forced his left foot toward where his right should be. Finding nothing but a cushioned barrier, Steve grunted in frustration. Holding the top of the sheet with his left hand, he held his breath as his right explored beneath; running down the gown across his belly to his hip and onto his thigh. He could hardly bear the tension as his hand slipped past the bottom of the flimsy gown along the outside of his leg, scared of what he might find. Part way down his thigh, all sensory function of his leg stopped. It was an odd sensation – he felt skin beneath his fingers and yet there was no response to the light touch at all – but at least he still seemed to have a leg. Steve continued his fumbling exploration toward his knee. He knew he could simply try flinging the blankets back, but in all honesty he was terrified of what may lie beneath. His heart was banging in his chest as absolute fear engulfed him. What the hell was he going to do if he'd lost his leg? He'd undertaken missions all over the world – fought in the most hostile environments imaginable – and returned; the injuries sustained requiring convalescence, but none of them life-changing. The absolute fear that coursed through him was not something he was used to. Sure, he'd known fear. He'd been trained to supress it; to use it to complete the mission. This? This was almost too much.

Swallowing dryly, Steve's hand continued its voyage of discovery. The unintentional movement of a concealed tube caused an unwelcome tug on certain parts of his anatomy and he cursed, vowing to find a nurse to remove_*that* _as a matter of priority. The detection of his knee did nothing to quell his rising panic. He couldn't comprehend the origin of the feeling. He was always able to check his emotions at the door; get the job done. This was a whole new experience and the loss of control terrified him almost more than the thought of what he might find … or find he'd lost. The outside world faded to grey as he concentrated on the task before him. His breathing quickened as his heart beat between his ears; the adrenaline of fear leaving beads of sweat across his upper lip and brow. He had to know. Had to see. Nausea rose to a crescendo as he grasped the sheets and blankets with both hands, flinging them sideways to reveal his fate. The blankets caught on the riser frame, giving him only a partial view of what lay beneath; a sight that left him reeling. Cradled in the orthopaedic pillow was his worst nightmare.

*** H5-0 ***

As the automated doors slid closed, Chin turned to stare back through the glass; the etched pattern in the centre highlighting the barrier that now separated him even further from Danny. Standing in the middle of the corridor, he fisted the hands that hung by his sides so tightly the nails almost drew blood on his palms. He didn't feel it. He didn't feel much of anything right now. Except for a deep ache where his heart was meant to be.

How the hell had this happened? One minute they were heading back to the house, mouths already watering at the delicious aroma emanating from the bags; the next they were spectators watching as their friend engaged in a life-or-death fight against his own body. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. How could something as innocuous as a cough have set such a catastrophic chain of events in motion? Both men had been in far more precarious situations on an almost daily basis since the establishment of Five-0, chasing the island scum and cleaning up the streets – not to mention their forays into international criminal enterprise. They'd both been shot – hell, Danny's exposure to a nerve agent hadn't even managed to keep him down. Now here Chin was, pacing the hall outside the ICU that housed the man who may die … from a cough. It was such a freaking clusterfuck.

Chin was torn between his need to anchor Danny to reality and his own desire to escape the oppressively claustrophobic atmosphere of the ICU. His whole body thrummed with pent-up energy, yet he was exhausted. He needed to eat. The memory of the untouched meal that remained in the foot well of Kono's car made his stomach grumble involuntarily. It was going to take more than a magic tree to remove the smell which would likely have impregnated every square inch of fabric by now. He could think of worse things for a car to smell of – some of the HPD vehicles deserved to be put out of their misery and about the only thing that would do it was napalm. As his stomach growled and his mind wandered, Chin realised he needed to take care of himself if he was going to be any use to Danny. The staff had made it very clear there would be no attempt to wake his friend for at least another – he checked his watch – 16 hours. That gave him time to freshen up a little, grab a coffee and something to eat and check in with Steve and Kono. Following only the direction of his rational mind, Chin turned and headed for the elevator. Locking his fear and exhaustion down tight behind his mask of calm conviction, he hit the button and awaited the vehicle of his escape. He would become the barbican the rest of his team needed right now; managing his emotions and his exhaustion … later.

*** H5-0 ***

Laying back into his pillows, arm resting over his eyes in an attempt to hide the dampness that resided there, Steve tried to comprehend what Kono was telling him. She had returned to his room just as he had removed the sheets and revealed his legs. Rushing to his side, she had grabbed the bowl from the tray table and shoved it beneath his chin just in time. Just in time to prevent a mess, but too late to save him from the embarrassment he felt at his stomach's unwelcome attempt at turning itself inside out. She had called the nurse, who had in turn called the doctor … who had tried to explain everything. Steve had tried to listen, to take on board all that was said to him; but between his nausea and his rising panic all of them may as well have been talking in tongues. Apparently he had some sort of panic attack – which was ridiculous. He was a Navy SEAL. SEALs didn't have panic attacks. _HE_ didn't have panic attacks. Surely it was some sort of reaction to medication. Something. Anything. Not a panic attack.

"Don't worry, Boss," Kono's light touch on his shoulder drew him from his thoughts. "No-one will know … unless you tell them."

Dropping his arm onto his chest, Steve stared at the rookie. He had to stop calling her that – even in his mind – for she was so much more than just 'the rookie'. She was more than capable in hand-to-hand combat – even putting his own ass on the mat on occasion – and could handle pretty much any weapon given to her. Her mind was sharp and her powers of logic and deduction were some of the best he had encountered … which was why it seemed she had almost read his mind. She clearly saw his discomfiture. Read it in his body language despite his carefully schooled expression. She was like a second baby sister. Able to tease him mercilessly and call him on his shit and yet loyal and more than willing to do whatever it took to protect the sanctity of family. Their 'ohana. Even if all that meant right now was protecting his pride.

Steve stared up into her rich, brown eyes; eyes filled so profoundly with sadness one could almost fall and drown in it … but in order to do that he would need to escape the quicksand travelling steadily through his veins. The slow sludge that flowed and settled deep within his aching limbs; anaesthetised his senses and dampened his emotions until all he could think about was sleep. Steve shook his head; the attempted clearing of muddled thoughts thwarted by the blanket of warmth that beckoned him. Kono's delicate fingers traced his hairline; the soft murmur of her encouragement to rest the last thing he heard as he allowed the quicksand to swallow him whole.

*** H5-0 ***

"No. I really don't think you _do _understand." Rachel pressed her palms into the counter top as she stared angrily at the somewhat flustered young woman behind the desk. "In fact," she continued, her speech intentionally slowed, "I suspect that you are being deliberately obtuse!"

Grace picked at the thread dangling from the seam on her sleeve and rolled it between her thumb and fingers. She watched as her mother became increasingly infuriated at the airline desk. It wasn't really like her Mum. Most of the time she was organised and forthright, but not particularly anxious. She had her moments, of course – especially when she and Danno had been arguing about custody – but Grace hadn't seen her mother this worked up in a long while. _Danno must be really, really sick, _she thought. She had been woken early that morning and told to pack her things; the solemn look on her mother's face turning her stomach. She had hardly been able to verbalise the words and yet Grace knew it was her Danno without needing the confirmation. All her Mother had said was that there had been some sort of accident and he was in the hospital. It was what she _hadn__'__t _said – coupled with the frantic dash to the airport to fly straight home – that frightened Grace the most. It was that fear of the unknown that fed her nausea; that caused her to pick at her clothing. A fear that made her want to snuggle into the soft monkey Danno gave her until she and it were one. One large, Danno-scented monkey, filled with woollen wadding; oblivious to the disquiet of fear and sheltered from the outside world by unseeing eyes and deaf ears.

Grace stared at her mother who stood rigidly before the desk, anger almost palpable. The young woman in the navy dress with the red stripe and fuchsia-pink left sleeve was obviously biting her tongue and she could see her clench her jaw before intentionally softening her features to explain something to her mother. Step-Stan stood behind Grace, one hand resting on her shoulder as she perched on the luggage; the other on the stroller. Her brother was sprawled in the seat, one leg dangling across the bumper bar; the missing shoe tucked into the folds of the sunshade with his juice cup. He was completely undisturbed by either the commotion or the events of the morning; his thumb and the corner of his blanket stuffed into a mouth lax in slumber, a slow stream of dribble coating both.

Grace felt Stan tense and turned her head to look at him. With a gentle squeeze of her shoulder and apologetic smile, he nodded toward the women; taking a breath and pointing to indicate his desire to intervene. The airport terminal was almost empty, save for the cleaning crew and a group of young men – backpackers by the look of their luggage – and her mother's rising voice was easily heard across the open space. Grace shrugged, her softly spoken "Go" the approval her step-father needed to head across the hall.

"I'll be back in a minute, okay?" he said. Grace nodded and returned her attention to the thread on her sleeve.

"As I've already explained several times, Mrs. Edwards, there are no direct flights to Honolulu. If you would like to travel via Seoul or Singapore, then I can help you." Raising an open hand to quiet the anticipated backlash, the young clerk took a deep breath. She had already explained that this was the _international_ terminal and unless she wanted to travel via Korea, the agitated woman and her family would need to move to the domestic terminal to get a flight to the other side of the country. "I can call my colleague in the domestic terminal and have her begin searching for you, or you are welcome to use the computer behind you to purchase your tickets online … which might be easier for you, but you will still have to depart from the _domestic _terminal."

"It would all be a lot easier if you people would just _help. _I think perhaps it's time you fetched an actual adult …"

"Rachel that's enough!" Seeing her increasing distress, Stan stepped up to the desk and grasped her shoulder. Rachel spun, left arm striking his forearm in a defensive block.

"No, Stanley … it's clearly _not _enough!" Rachel almost shouted. Glancing sideways at where her daughter was seated on top of her suitcase, Rachel gave the girl a strained smile. "We're stuck here and _she," _Rachel hissed, jabbing a pointed finger in the clerk's direction. "_She _isn't helping."

"Go and wait with Grace and Charlie …"

"Bu …"

"_Please_, Rachel. This isn't helping." Stan held his now trembling wife by the shoulders, face stern and tone brooking no argument. "And for heaven's sake pull yourself together. If this is hard for you, imagine how she feels," he said, with a subtle nod in Grace's direction.

Patting her husband's hand as he released his grip before replacing his strong hands with her own, Rachel took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's just …"

"I know." Stan's lips thinned into a grim smile as she stepped away. Turning to the desk, Stan sighed. "Sorry about that. Her ex-husband – my step-daughter's father – has been critically injured and we need to get back to Hawai'i as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," the young girl, whose name-tag read 'Amy' replied. "As I explained to your wife, unless you'd like to travel via Seoul – which will take at least eighteen hours - you will need to head to the other terminal to get a domestic flight to either Brisbane or Sydney and a connecting flight from there. It's about a four hour flight, with a further eight or so hours to get you into Honolulu. If I could organise it from here, believe me I would, but our computer system won't allow me in to the domestic site right now and I'm not able to book you onto a flight out of the other airports."

"I see," Stan looked over his shoulder at his wife, who was now seated on the luggage gently rocking as she held her daughter in a comforting embrace. Stan smiled wearily as he returned his attention to the clerk, hands clasped loosely together and forearms resting on the high counter. "So what do you suggest, Amy?"

"The computer by the hand luggage scale on the far wall will get you into the flight booking site and you can purchase tickets with a credit card. The best I can do is call my colleague over in domestic and make sure she gets you seated together and checks your luggage right through."

"Thank you."

"I hope you can get there soon, Mr. Edwards … and that her father will be okay," Amy smiled, nodding in the direction of the young girl, her sadness clearly visible even from a distance.

"So do I, Amy. So do I."


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **Still own naff all :o(

**A/N:** Continued thanks to all of you who have been kind enough to follow or leave a review. I apologise for the long delay in posting ... the muse was worse than useless, so I had to ... err ... lay a new patio o.O

Thanks to _Irene Claire _& _TheDogo_ for the loan of their muses, the latter also for the extra large boot up my butt and scissors in my text ... any errors which remain are entirely my own (or the result of a British heritage).

* * *

><p>Chin watched from the doorway as his cousin continued to encourage their Boss to rest. Stood at his bedside like the custodian of his repose; his hand grasped tightly in her own as she smoothed back the hair from his temple. She had her back to him, but Chin could tell from her posture that she was on edge. Ready to strike whomsoever chose to disturb the peace; like a coiled rattler awaiting prey.<p>

Chin took advantage of her deferent silence to take in the sight of the Commander. The gravel-rash from his run-in with the truck extended from the ulnar side of his right arm to the back of his shoulder before travelling down his torso to his hip. The original gauze coverings had been replaced for the most part with fresh, white porous tape dressings. The deeper areas sported more complex looking bandages and the surrounding skin was covered in angry bruises that would give a rainbow a run for its money. A rich gathering of purples had also begun to form a racoon mask across his pale face, a single butterfly bandage holding the skin together over his swollen nose; the remnants of the blood-nose he had when Chin left him now dried and crusting in his nares.

Chin mentally catalogued each area of damage as he surveyed the man in the bed. The man who appeared tense even in sleep. A stark contrast to his partner who lay in pallid flaccidity a floor above. As his gaze was drawn further down the bed, an inexorable gasp escaped him; his hands automatically clenching against the stiff brown paper of the bags he held by his side.

Kono turned toward the door, defensive stance and posture ebbing in recognition of the new arrival.

"Don't creep up on me like that, cuz," her half-whispered response. "Danny?" The single word hung in the air like a suffocating fog.

"Sorry. He's holding his own, for now." Kono's relief was palpable. "How's _he_ doing?" Chin stepped into the room, placing one of the bags on the tray table at the foot of the bed and nodding towards the exposed legs of his Boss. "And what the hell is that?"

Following her cousins gaze, Kono took a deep breath and motioned to the chairs in the corner of the room.

"Long story. He's not happy."

"I'll bet!" Chin passed the remaining bag to his cousin as he sat. "Figured you could use some food," he said as she perched on the edge of her chair and peeked inside, lips thinning into a tight smile as she nodded in thanks but made no effort to eat.

The next twenty three minutes were spent with Kono explaining what the doctor had said to Steve about his leg and the plan for reconstruction. About how the metal framework held the lower half of his right leg together; metal pins protruding from his shin and attaching via a complex system of bolts and rigid metal bars to the pins either side of his heel-bone, a further bar and pin through the long bone of his toe to hold his foot in flexion. About how this contraption was to remain in place for a good eight to ten days to allow the traumatised soft tissues to recover enough to survive further surgery … surgery which would repair the displaced and shattered bones with an elaborate collection of titanium plates and screws. About how that could not happen until a significant portion of the swelling had dissipated and the tissue disrupted by the emergence of bone through skin had been given time to rest … because flesh that badly injured and filled with excess fluid simply would not heal, would invite infection … could result in total limb loss …

Kono stated the facts prosaically; emotion no longer tolerable to her overwrought psyche. She acquiesced to Chin's suggestion that the Boss had fallen into exhausted sleep, hiding the reality behind her best poker face. The reality where the SEAL had fallen apart in her arms; hyperventilating himself into a confused frenzy. Where his outright phobia of the external metal fixator had seen him actively vomit at the sight of it. Where he had failed so completely to button down his emotions that he had cried like a child. Where she had – for the first time – seen complete and naked fear in her Boss' eyes. She had allowed him that privacy, her anger from his stubborn stupidity in the ambulance displaced by loyalty and the bond of 'ohana. She had no idea why Steve felt such irrational terror at the sight – nor did she particularly care. She would uphold her promise and withhold the knowledge that he had. Even from her cousin. The cousin who saw through her poker face like it was glass. Saw straight through to her tormented soul; knew there was a lie, but refused to acknowledge it. Out of respect for her. Because he knew her well enough. If she meant to keep it from him, there would be a reason. And that was all he needed to know.

*** H5-0 ***

James Russell was a good boy. Headstrong and curious, but in all the right ways a good boy. He played ball and rode his bike like any other kid. Delivered the papers on Saturday mornings, spending a small portion of his wages on penny candy and saving the rest in the brass money-box his grandfather had given him. He and Steve McGarrett were almost inseparable the summer they both turned nine - where one would go, the other was sure to follow. They forged a kinship as strong as any brother and were fiercely protective of each other. James had his heart set on buying himself a skateboard. Both boys had been obsessed with them since Michael J. Fox's infamous skateboard chase in Back to the Future. It was that obsession which led to the birth of Steve's phobia.

James had taken the brass money-box to the store and emptied it on the counter one Saturday morning, almost bursting with delight as the clerk handed over his prize in return. Tucking the money box back in his bag, he had gingerly tested his new transportation on the sidewalk. Blessed with a good sense of balance, James easily conquered the shiny blue board as he made his way to his best friend's house to surprise him. He never made it to Steve's.

Pono Ka'aukai was behind the wheel of his old Ford, too busy collecting his next beer from the foot well to take note of the boy on the sidewalk. Jimmy had been struck when the vehicle mounted the kerb, thrown to the floor and then driven over and left for dead at the roadside. Fortunately for him, old Mrs Harrison was like a guard dog alerting everyone to his plight with her screaming and yelling. The neighbourhood snoop had, for once, been entirely useful in both saving James and capturing and charging Pono – who broke down and admitted his wrongdoing under the watchful eye of one Officer Duke Lukela within a half hour of his capture.

The road to recovery had been long and hard for James. His leg was so badly damaged the surgeons had needed to remove some of the bone and attach an external fixator to the remaining ends. Due to the missing bone, James' leg was shorter and four times a day he was required to turn the nuts on the frame, moving the two healing bone ends apart to lengthen the limb. The pain James had suffered with his recovery had been nothing short of debilitating. Steve had visited him daily in the hospital for over a month, watching in horror as his friend suffered. When James' father was transferred to his firm's new branch in Missouri, leaving the islands was a welcome relief for the boy who had been robbed of his independence, innocence and childhood by the actions of a careless drunk.

For Steve, the imprint of his friend's agony had morphed and become synonymous with the Ilizarov frame and Kirschner wires; his young mind melding the two together until an unbridled fear replaced simple observation of the apparatus and left him reeling at simply the thought of it. His adult brain was well able to comprehend the irrationality of his thought, but the phobic response was overwhelming – a true, specific traumatophobia relating to external fixation for limb repair. He could no more control his physical response to the sight of it than he could control the ocean. A fact which was going to cause a momentous problem unless he was able to figure out a way to cope without needing full-time sedation.

*** H5-0 ***

Again he sat, elbows resting on chair arms, fingertips of one hand resting against his lips; rested there because _there_ they couldn't pick apart the last of the Styrofoam water cup. Chin was beyond weary. He had surpassed exhausted hours ago and yet somehow remained upright at the bedside. Danny's nurse, Beth, had tried to get him to lay down – even going so far as securing him access to the on-call room located just beyond the family waiting room. He had respectfully declined each and every time, but Beth continued to ask. It warmed his heart that she tried so hard, but he simply couldn't bring himself to leave. Not yet. Because right now he was all Danny had.

Kono had been unable to bring herself to visit the ICU. Had erected a barrier of tasks and duties to actively prevent her attendance here. Had worked a little too hard to create sound logic, when in reality it was skewed way beyond rational reasoning. She had needed that. Had needed to remain strong and determined to assist the wayward Commander in whichever inventive way she was able … because she was completely _unable_ to revisit the horror that was Danny. Could not yet compartmentalise the image of his lifeless body before her, of her hands compressing his ribcage. Couldn't separate the overwhelming trauma from the current situation – the overbearing fear that he could already have been lost quite simply too much to even acknowledge. And so Chin had been the one to maintain the silent vigil at Danny's bedside. It was Chin who had stepped away intermittently to allow the team to turn his friend, cleansing and assessing his skin lest pressure areas develop and complicate his already fragile existence. It was Chin whom the nurse had taken pity on, her gentle requests for help a determined ploy to occupy his thoughts and keep him from the rabbit hole of despair. She seemed to understand, her quiet persistence never wavering, but never stern. He guessed the nursing staff saw a lot of people like him. Terrified for a loved one. Torn apart by the not knowing. In the sixteen hours since Danny's admission to the ICU, Chin had learned how to check and measure the chest drains – or ICC's as they were known. Had learned to check for bubbles and for 'swing' in the line as the change in thoracic pressures moved the fluid in the tube gently back and forth. He had garnered a whole new level of respect for the nurses when he discovered how hard it was to actually brush someone else's teeth – especially when there were obstacles hindering movement of the brush with the ventilator and endotracheal tube. Beth had patiently explained how important the simple things like teeth brushing were. That when no food or liquid is passing across the tongue and through the mouth it becomes a veritable Petri dish filled with all manner of fungus and bacteria, which is far from what you need when you're already embroiled in the fight of your life. But Danny _was_ fighting. He was. Chin would not have it any other way.

The nurses had been gentle with them both. Physically gentle with Danny, explaining every touch … every movement. They had managed his care with quiet efficiency and afforded him dignity and respect in spite of the invasive nature of some of their tasks. They had managed Chin with kid gloves, ensuring his comprehension of every aspect of Danny's care. Explaining to him by talking to Danny. Repeating and re-wording things where necessary to allow his jaded mind to keep up. When the staff had needed to cleanse Danny in places he wouldn't want Chin to see, he had stepped away to the nurses desk. Still only four long strides from the bed, but far enough from the curtain to maintain his friend's privacy. It was at that desk that the nursing co-ordinator had provided him with a travel mug filled with proper coffee. While Chin didn't usually take sugar, the hot, sweetened beverage was like nectar to his overtaxed system … and it kept coming. Chin had to make a decision. He either declined the offered cups and fell into a sleep so deep he mightn't wake, or accepted both the cups and the fact that he would need to take toilet breaks. He chose the latter, using the staff restroom as it was closer and the alarms could be heard from within.

Chin had somehow grown used to the coolness of skin beneath hands warmed by the coffee mug as he held on to his friend. His continual verbiage had long since ceased; the long stress-filled hours now evident in both his posture and his silence. Beth had continued her mindless banter when Chin's voice had failed him, but he remained at the bedside. Unlike most, he had been given round-the-clock access to Danny – a courtesy extended because of the Governor's pull. Of that he was certain. He had spoken briefly with the man several hours ago. Been promised anything he or the team needed. Told to call him on his private number at any time – day or night – if there were any developments, good or bad. Chin was quite sure if the Governor hadn't reached out personally to the head of clinical services, he would be sitting on one of the pale blue couches in the relatives' waiting room right now. Shifting in the plastic chair to prevent the numbness of immobility returning, his eyes met those of Danny's attending nurse once more. Her expression warm and kind, she smiled back at him as she scribbled notes onto the chart.

"Not all that comfy, are they? The couches in the waiting room are better for your backside – worse for your stress levels though, in spite of the paint!"

"Paint?" Chin queried, forehead creasing in confusion.

Beth grinned, eyes pressed shut and nose wrinkled as she shook her head at the memory, a small infectious chuckle escaping her. "Oh yes. The powers-that-be decided we nurses were not so hot at interior design after the whole graffiti incident."

"Graffiti incident?" Chin dropped down beside Danny's bed to check his chest drain, the small wave of Beth's hand as she spoke now an ingrained cue for his assistance.

"All Gavin's fault really – he allowed the relatives of one of our previous patients to spray-paint a mural on the wall in the waiting room. It was quite artistic – depicted the ICU pretty well, we thought. Management weren't all that impressed though. Poor Gav … he's a wonderful nurse, but he's not really what you'd call … 'traditional nurse' material … tattoos, dreadlocked hair, piercings – you know. Looks like he'd be more at home bumming about on a beach somewhere. Fabulous nurse though – could teach some of these new interns a thing or two as well – probably the only reason he kept his job. He's all about the patients and hates the politics of upper management."

"He sounds like someone I'd like." Lips thinning in a half-smile, Chin rose to his feet. "Swing but no bubbles and about 12mls of drainage in the ICC."

Tipping her pen to him in thanks, Beth continued "I bet you will - he's on night's tonight so you can find out." Beth completed her writing, moving to the myriad of pumps at the bedside where she began checking the fluids and drugs running into Danny's system.

"So management decided to cover the graffiti then? Not their cup of tea, huh?" Chin stretched his back as he moved to Danny's head, taking hold of the nasogastric tube which emerged from his left nostril and checking the markings.

"Oh no – it got even better."

"Still 51cm," Chin stated, settling on the chair once more.

"Thanks. They decided to employ a 'behavioural colour consultant', whatever the hell one of them is." Chin smiled and allowed himself a small chuckle for the first time in hours. Beth watched as he visibly relaxed a little into the chair from something other than exhaustion and continued. "Apparently the canary yellow at the top is to incite hope and an uplifting mood, while that muted green is supposed to instil an air of calm and stop all the grumpy relatives bashing us in frustration – I have to say the colour _itself_ frustrates me. It looks so darn grubby. If I didn't know better I'd suggest firing the cleaner!"

Chin supressed a proper chuckle at that, ever mindful of his location and the appropriateness of overly happy emotion in a place so fraught with depressed tension; not to mention his own pang of guilt as his friend languished next to him. "So why the blue sofa's?"

"Your guess is as good as mine on that one, Chin. The expensive consultant woman seemed to think blue was depressing and shouldn't be seen up here. I guess management ran out of money before they could buy new couches!" Beth pretended to continue her checks as she assessed her patient's friend again. The man was barely holding himself together and the cracks in his composure were developing into cavernous gaping holes the longer he remained at the bedside. For the first time in hours, his mood had lifted just briefly in acknowledgement, before the wait and the worry seemed to monopolise his thoughts once more and his shoulders slumped in weary defeat.

They would begin slowly re-warming Danny soon, but no-one knew when – or even if – the man would wake. There was no certainty that the Danny his friends knew and loved would ever make it back to them, or indeed in what state he would return. And that was why Chin refused to leave. His rational mind knew that he needed rest. That more would be required of him in the coming hours – at least that was the hope. That he would be needed to help his friend re-connect with wakeful reality … but he simply couldn't disconnect from him now. Afraid that the moment he chose to leave would be the moment Danny reached out. That the absence of his 'ohana would signify emancipation from them and release him to the spirits. And so Chin had clung to his friend physically. Had held his hand and rubbed soothing circles on the back of his wrist with his thumb; brushed his hair from his face and rested his hand on his too-cool forehead. Held on tightly lest his friend float away from him like a helium balloon in the breeze. Held on because he didn't know what else to do. Because even the thought of letting go burned a hole in his heart. Chin was only too well aware that, eventually, they may all need to let go. Say goodbye. But that time was not now. Not yet. And so he held on. Held on and waited.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **Still own absolutely nothing :o(

**A/N:** Continued thanks to all of you who have been kind enough to follow or leave a review. I apologise for the looooong delay in posting ... RL has kinda sucked :o/

Thanks to _Irene Claire _& _TheDogo_ for the beta ... any errors which remain are entirely my own.

* * *

><p>The first time Chin had met Danny's intensivist, he had to catch himself to remember his manners. Extending a hand to the shorter man, he couldn't help but compare him to Doogie Howser. The young doctor couldn't have been much over five and a half feet tall and although he clearly worked out to keep himself toned and fit, there was hardly an ounce of muscle on him. His floppy brown hair was held back by a pair of battered safety glasses; a testament to the unruly mop having a mind of its own. His hair's blatant attempt to cover the intensity and honest intelligence of his hazel brown eyes was a subdued contradiction to his state of miss-matched undress. Chin chuffed in amusement at what Danny would say about the man's choice of professional attire.<p>

The physician's cheeky nature was exemplified by the bright, cherry red stethoscope lazily draped across his neck, contrasting sharply with the glaringly orange converse covering his feet. Taking in his button-upped dress shirt half untucked, Chin counted approximately seven assorted pens – including a surgical marker, multi-coloured Bic and a highlighter – clipped throughout the spaces between his shirt buttons. But it was the shark tooth and piece of a fork with the tines rolled up to differing levels on a leather strap around the man's neck that almost sent Chin into fits of guffawed laughter. He was never going to hear the end of this from Danny, or Steve, that he had allowed this man access to the Detective's care.

The stethoscope was the only real indication, besides the ID badge dangling from the loop of his black turned up jeans, that the man had rightfully earned his place amongst the hallowed halls of Queens Medical. Beth had caught on to his scepticism and with a knowing smile, had voiced her reassurance. "Don't you let this baby face fool ya," she said, thumbing over her shoulder from where she stood on the other side of the bed. "He may only just be out of diapers and I probably shave more than he does, but he's one of the best we've got and I'd trust him with any of mine." Smiling, she winked at the newcomer whose face had split into a boyish grin, his hand extended in kind.

"Markus James – that's my surname, of course – James … no middle name … parents at least spared me that." His speech was fast and his handshake firm. Chin could almost feel the energy radiating off of the young medic even after he had released his grip, the nervous thrum almost magnetic in its pull of attention.

"Chin Ho Kelly, Five-0," Chin replied, wondering briefly if he was alert enough to keep up with the expected conversation if it were to be conducted at warp speed.

"Aaah yes – taskforce. Beth mentioned something about that." Noting Chin's look of surprise, he added "You were taking a bathroom break when I called to check in, I believe. The staff have extended you the courtesy of the 'good stuff', yes?"

Chin nodded in the affirmative. He had no idea who brewed the rich, syrupy coffee – or indeed where, as the modest kitchenette he'd seen in the staff lounge on his way to the bathroom had offered no clues.

"Yes. A well-kept secret indeed. Never let on to the surgeons though, or we'll never get rid of them. Think they own the place, that lot." Winking once more at Beth, who blushed and turned her attention away with a coy smile, the doctor surveyed the large chart on the tilted table at the foot of Danny's bed. "Numbers look good, Bethie. Not much red. His last gas is better too. How's his output?"

"Improving. He started to diurese a lot better last hour and he's been trending up. Pressures are great and I dropped his 'tropes right back … hang on." Sensing Chin's growing unease at his inability to keep up with either what they were discussing or what it meant for his friend, Beth interrupted her reply to Markus. "Chin, why don't you go stretch your legs and grab a refill on that coffee? Maybe go rest on the couch in the nurses' lounge for a bit, huh?"

Looking at Danny, Chin opened his mouth to voice a protest but was quickly silenced by the waggle of Beth's warning finger in his peripheral vision.

"She's right, Mr. Kelly. You look like the walking dead yourself and I already have enough patients without you adding to my workload." Markus smiled and waved his pen in the general direction of the lounge. "Go rest in there for a little while. There's bread and some cheese in the fridge so make yourself something to eat before you fall over." His tone was gentle and Chin could see the genuine concern in both his and Beth's eyes as they looked at him. "Don't tell the surgeons about that either … damned gluttons, the lot of them." Markus returned his attention to the chart in front of him, pen still waggling in the general direction of the nurses' lounge.

Chin felt like he'd just been dismissed from the principal's office at school … by a man who looked young enough to have still been a student. He didn't want to leave his friend. He wanted to know everything. Every last detail that could offer a clue as to Danny's fate. They were right, of course. His fatigue was getting the better of him. One could only exist on coffee for a finite amount of time before exhaustion won out … and Chin was about there already. The combination of adrenaline dump and caffeine had kick-started a nauseating pattern of empty rumbling in his belly and the sandwich he had bought from the cafeteria remained in its plastic wrap in the fridge … alongside the aforementioned cheese.

"It's ok, Chin. We've got a fair bit to discuss and we need to take a look at Danny's wounds too. I promise we'll come find you and explain once we're done." Chin looked back at Danny's pale, still body in the bed. "We'll be here the whole time, Chin. We won't leave him, I promise," Beth added, stepping forward to place a hand on his arm and physically encourage him to heed their advice.

*** H5-0 ***

Chin woke with a start at the gentle touch on his arm. Scrubbing a hand over his face and pushing himself upright on the small couch, he struggled to re-connect his sleep-deprived mind with conscious thought.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." Chin looked up at the dishevelled form of Dr. Markus James, his boyish grin still firmly in place as he leaned back from where he perched on the small coffee table and indicated the steaming mug beside him. "Thought you could use a top-up while I fill you in on the medical stuff – it'll make more sense with caffeine and cheese," he grinned. At Chin's perplexed look, he indicated the small toasted sandwich oozing with cheese and leaving greasy marks on the paper towels it rested upon. "Sorry there's no plates – surgeons probably stole them. Nothing is safe from those overgrown children."

Chin chuckled at the irony of the rejoinder as he reached for the coffee. "Mahalo. How long was I out?"

"Not sure. Maybe forty minutes? Not long enough for a proper recharge. You should do that, you know. Recharge. Not gonna do anyone any good if you go all zombie on us – leave the inane grunting to the surgeons."

"You really don't like surgeons, do you?" Chin smiled, sipping the hot, sweet beverage and reaching for the sandwich with an appreciative nod.

"Not too bright, but good with their hands," he winked. "Of course I'll deny ever saying that if asked."

"You do remember I'm law enforcement, right?" Chin smiled.

"Right now you're just an exhausted guy who wants to know about his friend. How about I help with that, huh?"

Chin simply nodded around his mouthful of cheese and bread.

Pulling his leg up to rest his ankle across the opposite knee, revealing a pair of multi-coloured argyle socks, Markus continued. "The good news is that things are looking very positive. Danny's pupillary light and corneal reflexes are present – sluggish, but present. He's still cold though, so I expect things will continue to improve as we bring him up to a more normal temperature."

"So you're going to start warming him up then?"

"Yes. Bethie has been cutting back on the support we were giving him to maintain his circulatory status and I'm happy that from that perspective he is now pretty stable. His gases are much better and his ECG readings are good. All things considered, it doesn't look like there is any long-term damage to his heart. Obviously we will have cardiology verify that for us and run an echo once we have him running warm – no point assessing the engine on a cold-start."

Chin couldn't help but smile at the young doctor and his peculiar analogies. His foot jiggled and bounced across his thigh as the heel of his other foot drummed an arrhythmic beat into the linoleum floor beneath it. He wasn't sure the man could sit still if his life depended on it … and he still talked at 100 miles an hour, but he had been right; the caffeine and cheese did help Chin keep up.

"We will warm him slowly though. I don't want his system too shocked and I don't want to risk sending him the other way – overheating is never a good thing … in cars or people. The other good news though is that Bethie has had to increase his sedation."

"Does that mean he's waking up?"

"Waking up is a very … err … _complicated_ thing, Chin. His body is certainly _starting_ to return to somewhere near normal in terms of basic function. The mind is a far more complex organ than the others though, so whether he will truly _awaken _we just don't know. That's the hard part, I'm afraid – for him and for us. I should warn you though that often when patients emerge from a deeply comatose state after something like this, it's the primitive mind which emerges first."

Chin's brow creased once more in confusion as he tried to comprehend what Doc was trying to say.

"What I mean is that sometimes we see movement and hear verbalisations that are more … _subconscious … _not considered or deliberate, but more instinctive … like scratching an itch, or swearing … or other more, err … _spontaneous expressions_, if you will."

Mug grasped tightly between hands that would tremble if not occupied, Chin nodded. The use of the phrase 'spontaneous expressions' with the raised eyebrow and slight hand signal alluding to actions one would expect of a hormonal teenager, not a grown and injured man. He knew this was essentially a positive start for his friend, but also sensed Doc was trying to prepare him for difficult times ahead. "So we keep waiting?"

"Talk to him. A familiar voice may help draw him closer to the surface. Read the paper to him, talk about the weather – it doesn't really matter what you're saying, just that you're there saying something. At the moment I have him chemically relaxed because I don't want his shivering to raise his temperature too high too fast, but as he gets warmer he won't need that anymore and so he may start moving on his own. He will almost certainly reach for and try to pull at his lines … and I can't have him doing anything which would be detrimental to his care … so there's a possibility that we may need to use some soft restraints." Seeing Chin's body language change at his last statement, Markus held up his hands to silence the foreseen objection. "It's only a possibility, Chin. I have no problem with you assisting with keeping that from happening while you are there, but Bethie needs to be able to manage his other needs when you're not present and …"

"I'll be here."

Softening and dropping his foot to the floor, Markus waited until he had Chin's full attention, laying his hand over the man's wrist. "I know you want to be, Chin but even you need bathroom breaks and you're exhausted. It'll be a good few hours yet before we even reach that point and if you are determined to be present to prevent him pulling at things, might I suggest you take some time to recharge?"

"I'm fine …" Markus James simply smiled and sat back, arms loosely crossed.

"Sure you are. Please, Chin. Use the on-call room. Bethie will call you out if there's any significant change and I promise you I will fetch you myself if I'm worried. He's gonna need you and he's gonna need you more functional than a zombie surgeon."

Placing the coffee mug back on the table, Chin scrubbed his hands over his face.

"I'm a man of my word, Chin. I know you don't want to leave him, but he's got Bethie here for at least the next four hours and I've requested Gavin for the next shift. He and Bethie are the best we have and Danny won't ever be alone, even when you're asleep next door. I'm on-call tonight anyway, so I'm not leaving the hospital either."

Chin saw nothing but honest concern reflected back at him from the boyish face of the physician. Loathe as he was to admit it, he knew he couldn't carry on with nothing but coffee and his will to sustain him. He worried about Kono and Steve too, but knew the nurses on the orthopaedic floor had been gracious enough to allow Kono the pull down bed in Steve's room. She would be able to sleep and remain present. He had to trust that Doc meant what he said and allow himself respite in preparation for the challenges to come.

*** H5-0 ***

Steve winced as he shifted his weight in the bed, the pain in his leg flaring with the intensity of a forest fire. The complete absence of feeling generated by the regional anaesthesia had been near bliss in comparison, but it was not beneficial to his mental state. Steve was completely at the mercy of his phobic response. He couldn't compartmentalise and the absence of feeling had transitioned into a near constant reminder of the external fixator. To his absolute repugnance, he had required sedation on three separate occasions since awakening from surgery. His embarrassment and disgust at himself had become a rather large elephant in the room and it was Kono who eventually advocated for the cessation of the regional block, her hope being that having pain would give him a focus away from the metalwork holding him together. Doc had reluctantly acquiesced to removal of the catheter in his groin a couple hours ago, voicing his negative opinion of the plan rather loudly to anyone who would listen. Thankfully, Steve's nurse, Anya, cared more about her patient than the opinion of the doc and had spoken with the on-call psychiatrist to validate their plan and secure some formally qualified backup for the mutinous plot. The fact that they were married and he had been threatened with the in-laws for dinner completely irrelevant to his decision, of course. His one stipulation was that Steve was to take a mild anti-anxiety medication regularly, as well as adequate analgesia, because unmanaged pain would be just as bad for him in the long run.

While waiting for the last of the sedatives to wear off, Kono and Anya had busied themselves with foam pads and pillow cases, constructing a comfortable padded hide worthy of a gold medal at the camouflage Olympics and were now attempting to get the wayward SEAL settled in his bed … a task at which they were failing miserably.

"If you tell me one more time to 'just relax,' I swear I'm gonna …"

"Steve for heaven's sake, she's trying to _help_ you, would you just …"

"What? Sit down and shut up? Be a good boy? I'm not a God damned child, Kono!"

"Really? You coulda fooled me, brah!" Kono threw the pillow at her boss with the ferocity of a wild lion, verbal claws just as sharp. "You're behaving like a spoiled brat and if you keep going like this it won't just be Doc you have to look out for – _I'm _gonna sedate you … and then I'm gonna cuff you to the bed." Kono picked up the bed remote from where it had fallen under the bed, "and you can put your pet lip away too. It buys you no sympathy here anymore."

"I don't want sympathy," Steve groused, hugging the pillow to his belly and folding his arms across the top in belligerence.

"Good, cos the only place you'll find it is in the dictionary somewhere between shit and syphilis." Kono slammed the rescued remote over the bedrail, cocked her head and folded her arms; a small smile playing at the edges of her mouth.

"What?"

"You heard. Now are you gonna stay put or do I have to tie you to the bed?"

"Fine. But I want to see him."

"No!"


End file.
